A New day, a New World
by Delta270
Summary: My first work, so please be civil. Some traveled through time to change their world, Others to avoid their fate. A few, though, are unconcerned with their own world. They see beyond their own, at a greater world. One has his own great plans in store. But first, he must escape the fate he has brought on himself. rated M for possible coarse language.
1. Chapter 1

What in…? What had just happened? He couldn't… Damn, his head hurt.

He needed to take this one step at a time. Where was he? In fact, who was he?

His name…Aiden. Right. It was starting to come back to him. Everything was still far too fuzzy. But where was he…

The ground was covered in grass, that much he could tell. It was dark, but that could have been from the fact that he was lying face first into the ground. He needed to get up.

Slowly, very slowly, Aiden got up. Everything hurt, and his head was spinning. Nothing was serious enough to warrant a healing item, luckily. He still didn't know what was going on, but he was healthy. If he wanted to stay that way, he would need to check his surroundings.

A quick glance around revealed a small, grassy clearing set in the middle of a forest. It was empty save himself and a mid-sized bundle next to his feet. The sky was dark, but the orange glow on the horizon meant that it was dusk. Odd that the moon was already so high in the sky...

Then he smelled the smoke.

That wasn't the sun setting in the distance. The forest ahead was burning, smoke billowing into the sky. The ground trembled, and even through the haze, he could make out a massive wall of flame billowing out of the ground to the south. But this wasn't what held his attention.

Hanging high above, staring down like luminous eyes, an untold number of gates spewed dark shapes onto the landscape below.

Outrealm Gates like the one he just fell through.

That was right! The fog in his mind was clearing; he remembered running, fleeing in fact. He had activated the ritual, jumped through, and...fell. That was why everything hurt, then. That whole process could have really gone better. At least he didn't fall on the package. The package! Where was- by his feet. It made it through. Alright, at least one thing had gone well. He really needed to get moving. The area was very quickly getting dangerous, and he didn't want to be around once those things from the portals started moving.

Aiden checked his equipment to make sure nothing was damaged or out of place. Swordsman's gear, in place. Hardened lacquer plates on his chest and shoulders, segmented for mobility while still providing decent protection. A traveling cloak with a hood, for dealing with inclement weather. On his belt were two sheathes, each carrying a blade, commonly referred to as an "edge" due to its single-sided nature. And...nothing else. No vulneraries, no food or drink, nothing. His escape had been too quick to grab anything he wasn't already carrying. He'd have to stop somewhere for supplies; luckily he always kept a coin purse on his person.

Figuring out where to eat could come later, he needed to move. He had no idea where he was, and consequently no idea where to go, but staying still would mean being caught by whatever was falling from those portals. And if his suspicions were correct, that would be a death sentence.

* * *

Aiden had been moving for a good twenty minutes now, and there was still no landmark or path to mark where he was. On the bright side, he hadn't seen anyone else, either. Just up ahead was a clearing, one that might provide some sense of direction, or at least a good view of the sky. Of course, this was assuming he hadn't just run in a giant loop.

Pushing through the brush, he emerged into the night. The open area he found himself in was much larger than the last, with what appeared to be a few old fort ruins in the center. At the center was a large tower, aged by time but still somewhat stable. It could give him a good view of his surroundings and perhaps show him a way out of the forest. It would also leave him exposed to anything that was looking, but he'd much prefer fighting out in the open as opposed to stumbling into something while blindly walking around the woods.

The fort had seen better days. What had once been a stone tower and walled courtyard was now just a jumbled pile of stones in a poor approximation of its former glory. Huge gaps in the walls allowed easy access into the courtyard, though as the gate had long since rotted away, the walls would have been useless even if they were intact. All he needed was that tower, though. If that was stable enough, it could be his way out.

A few steps through the ruined gateway, and he was in. The interior was long since overgrown, a grass field with a few boulders lying around. There was a set of stairs, weathered but intact, heading into the tower. There was something wrong, though. Something about those rocks there. In fact, they looked more like corpses. He took a step closer, and was able to make out a humanoid figure in the moonlight.

He was immediately down next to the nearest one, with two fingers two their neck. A pulse, good. Strong and steady. They were merely unconscious, like he had been when he fell through the portal. Of more importance, though, was the fact that he recognized the comatose face in front of him.

They must have been sent after him. This wasn't good. He thought he'd have at least a few hours before anyone even noticed his theft. But here they were, and now his plan was in shambles.

He carefully checked them over. No one was injured, and, interestingly, they seemed to have very little in terms of supplies. Their departure had to have been sudden, too. The fact that they were prepared at all suggested to him that they took the bare essentials and left immediately. There was no advanced planning to it, which meant they probably didn't have time to prepare any outside assistance. Good for him. But if they didn't have someone else watching for them, that might mean...

Yes! Buried in one satchel was a tome. The tome. It appeared simple enough. It was a small, white book that looked like any other spell tome, though blank. In truth, it was much more. Inside was transcribed an ancient ritual, meant originally for a time of great strife. The ritual was meant to open a portal between worlds, or Outrealms, sending the user to another place, similar to their own, but set in the past. It acted like an emergency escape for the user, a way out if the world around them was collapsing. It allowed them to survive, perhaps changing the course of the world they found themselves in, and a chance to regroup and survive.

The ritual itself, unused, was discovered and transcribed at great cost into this tome. It could then be used as a last resort, and perhaps even a bridge between worlds. No longer bound to a singular use, the spell itself could be altered to reach other worlds beyond that which it was originally set for. It was more accurate and safer than an average Outrealm gate, if one could figure out the correct steps and alterations required to reach a realm. Or so he had been told. Unfortunately, tearing open the fabric of reality with a best-case scenario of winding up somewhere else entirely was a dangerous proposal, so very few had dared experiment with it. Some daring mages with a thirst for knowledge had discovered a few key words that could be used to link the gate with somewhere else, but with no knowledge of what could be on the other side, and no need to use it, none had ever tried going through the resulting gate.

At least, until he came along. It had been a brilliant plan, or so he thought. Steal the package, use the tome to escape to another realm, and hide until everything had blown over. They wouldn't be able to track him between realms, if they even suspected him of using the tome. He wasn't going to steal it, after all. He had no need, and it'd be a great way to cover his tracks. They'd never think that he'd actually even gone that way, because what kind of thief wouldn't have taken it? Once everything blew over, he had a friend on the other side that knew his location and was prepared to open a portal back home.

But now these four had followed him here. That meant that he had been followed, that his friend was compromised, and that he was at risk. Well, he couldn't let these four remain here, or give them the chance to call for reinforcements. If he sent them back and kept the tome, he'd be safe. They'd be out of his hair, and stuck back in their own realm. Unfortunately, that meant keeping the tome. He couldn't be sure when it would be safe to go home, if ever, since he was now cut off from his ally, as well as stealing an incredibly powerful magic artifact. Well, two. But he already expected the trouble that would arise from his first theft.

Well, there was no use worrying about it now. He opened the tome and began, performing each step slowly and carefully. It wouldn't be good to mess up a step. At worst, he might wind up blown apart by ancient and powerful magical forces. At best, he'd open a portal to some entirely different Outrealm. This particular adventure to here, wherever "here" was, had already taught him the importance of not rushing the ritual.

With a flourish, he finished. There was a small yellow flash, and then nothing. That wasn't supposed to happen. It was only when the flash appeared again, somewhat farther away, he realized it was a small insect of some sort. The ritual hadn't worked at all. The four comatose figures were still in the courtyard, it was still night, the forest still burned in the distance.

Right. An interesting side effect of the conversion: when the ritual transferred to the spell tome, it lost its connection to its divine creator's power. It only worked at locations where said creator, the god Naga, held great influence. But now he found himself in the ruins of an old fort in a forest, so of course it wouldn't work.

What would he do with these four, then? Killing wasn't an option. He was a thief, not a murderer. Besides, he knew these people. He had considered them friends, once. There had to be another way. He could just keep running and hope they never found him. But they wouldn't give up, especially if he had their only way home. Could he turn himself in? No, that would negate all of the work that brought him here.

Here, though, wasn't actually his final destination. He was trying to find somewhere to train, to get stronger while people back home forgot their anger at him. This place, though, was just unsafe. It would truly unfortunate to die here, after devoting so much time and effort to this plan. He needed to get to somewhere else, perhaps another outrealm, or at least beyond the reach of those things coming from the portals.

Perhaps, though, that was the key. A portal, like the one he just tried to summon. He needed to get out of here, and he also needed his pursuers, still comatose, out of his hair. Any of the portals currently hanging above were out of the question, of course. Going through those would probably just lead to a lot more danger. But if he could make it to a place where Naga's power was palpable, perhaps Mount Prism, and open a portal, he could still make this work. He could send them home and get himself out of here at the same time. The only problem was that any area where Naga's power truly manifested itself also generally shared a few traits. They were usually hard to reach without aid. Even then, people generally settled near these locations to be closer to their god, which meant more people to avoid. And, if he was correct about the identity of those…things, they would probably be drawn to those same focal points that he would need, and in great numbers. If that wasn't enough, he had these four after him. If fate was kind, they'd stay asleep until after they were sent home. But if fate, or reality, was that kind, he'd have gotten away with his theft and would already be in a nice Outrealm. So he would have to either find help in getting to Mount Prism, a poor idea for someone who wanted to stay hidden, or train enough to be able to fight through anything there himself, all while avoiding his hunters. Maybe he should just turn himself in. After all, this was getting more and more daunting by the minute-

A low groan, really more like a hiss, came from behind him. Aiden turned, and came face to face with a nightmare.

Crawling over the remains of the wall was a corpse. Its skin was thin and purple tinged. It moved in a jerking, stuttering fashion, contorting limbs at unnatural angles. The garb it wore, most likely a fighter's, was torn and tattered, and its axe, though pitted and rusted, gleamed sharply in the moonlight. It jumped down, and looked up. The face that stared out was inhuman, withered and scarred, and was dark despite the blazing red glow of its eyes. When it hissed again, a small tendril of shadow seeped from its maw. It was followed by another, this one using a sword and wearing a shoulder plate common to mercenaries.

The Risen had found him. Of course. They were instinctively drawn to defile those objects and locations linked to Naga, and here he was, holding such an object. Well, there was only one way this would end.

Aiden drew his blades.

They charged.

Damn, they were fast! The fighter was first. It wound up and swung from above. His offhand blade came up, catching the axe and driving it to the side as it came down. Then the other edge came up, slicing across the now unprotected Risen's front. It stumbled back, axeless, as a third strike ended its life.

A sword strike just barely dodged reminded him of the second Risen. It swung again and he caught the strike on his blade, and then drove forward with his shoulder, pushing it back. It lunged forward with the sword, so he sidestepped the wild attack. The move had taken him within range of the monster, so he drove his elbow into his face and followed the immediate reaction with a blade strike. The Risen fell to the ground and started to dissipate into a shadowy mist. It was dead.

The Risen. Those abominations that he had been trying to avoid his entire time here. They were more horrible than any story could tell. And he just killed two of them. It was surprisingly easy. He couldn't stay here, though. There were more out there, searching. Any time he stayed in one place meant that more could find and that assumed that the four bodies behind him didn't wake up first.

* * *

The rest of the night was spent walking, running, or fighting. Risen would show up, die, and be replaced. The forest was mostly enclosed, but he was finding signs of a path, well-worn into the dirt. Unfortunately, the path seemed to open up as it headed directly into the inferno. Only, it couldn't have been a fire. Though there were blazes all around, the large wall of fire itself didn't move. Instead, on closer inspection, it appeared to actually be a large rift in the earth, occasionally spewing molten rock. The forces behind it must have been immense, though he had some idea. It could have been caused when all of the portals above, many of which had since winked out, closed. And if his suspicions were correct, that same force had pulled his botched ritual to this same location, depositing him here with all of these Risen. He supposed that the rift, and the portals that appeared with it, warranted further explanation, though that would have to come later-

Fighting. Gods, he really had to keep a better view of his surroundings. It was close. There was the clang of weapons on weapons and armor, the sound of a thunder tome going off, the shrieks of Risen, and a few calls and shout currently incomprehensible through the trees. Who was fighting? And could he spare the time to help them without getting caught himself?

Luckily, he didn't have to make a choice. The fighting very quickly died down, almost as suddenly as it began. He snuck closer, curious, but aware he might stumble onto a field of corpses and a horde of Risen.

"You saved my sister's life." Wait, he knew that voice. But it couldn't be. Why would-

"My name is Chrom. May I ask yours?" It was him. That didn't make sense. Why would Chrom be here? And who was he speaking to?

"You may call me Marth." Damn. He was pretty sure he knew that voice, too. He wasn't quite sure about the name, though.

"Really? After the heroic king of old? You certainly fight like a hero. Where did you learn your way with a sword?" If the other person was who he thought it was, that was a question with a truly interesting and complex answer. But if Chrom didn't know, that meant...

It all clicked into place. A burning forest surrounded by portals summoning Risen. A rift in the earth. Chrom. Marth.

"I'm not here to talk about me. The world teeters on the brink of a horrible calamity. What you saw tonight was but a prelude. You have been warned." Yeah, they had. So had Aiden. The Risen had made it abundantly clear, even without the ominous and entirely vague warning. But it had served as confirmation of what he dreaded to know.

"The what's teetering on the edge of where now?" That voice sounded young. There wasn't a response.

"Not much for conversation, is he?" Another voice, this one different than the others. But if he was talking about Marth instead of to him, that meant Marth was leaving. The footsteps he heard were all the confirmation he needed. Marth was heading this way, and he could not let himself be seen. Not yet, at least. He dove into the forest, worrying about any sound he made. He needn't have bothered, though. Marth wasn't really paying attention. Aiden watched the figure go, able to make out a few glistening drops leaking from under the mask even in the poor light.

"...I am sure we will see him again. But for now, I am more concerned about the capital. We should make haste." Whoever that was, they were oddly focused. He'd just been attacked by the undead, seen a giant chasm open in the earth, and met someone naming themselves after an ancient hero, and his first thoughts were about those in the capital.

That meant that they were leaving. Once again, they chose to walk right past his hiding place. He was able to get a quick glance at the group. It looked like he was right. A figure that could only be Chrom led the group, followed by someone else. He could make out the figure of a man in a long black coat, carrying a thunder tome. He was able to make out a mass of black, somewhat unruly hair and a determined gaze. Following closely behind was a tall, dark-haired knight, his horse, and a young, blonde woman with pigtails and a healing staff. He let them pass, unnoticed.

The knight had been right. The Capital was key. Perhaps a visit would give him some grasp of the situation, or where he could go from here. Maybe he could even find some wandering mercenaries or soldiers to help him reach the mountain. At the very least, he'd be able to restock on supplies. He put up his cloak's hood and started walking. It wouldn't be good for anyone to see his face, even if no one would know it.

Chrom and his Shepherds may not have known what was coming, but he did. And no matter what happened, he would stop it.

It was why he'd fallen from grace, after all.

* * *

_Alright, hello everyone. I hope that this was at least moderately enjoyable. This is my first real attempt at writing fiction, so I hope it isn't too terrible. Check my profile for author's notes and explanations._

_Having looked, apparently none of my notation was actually appearing in the file, so basically understand that a line designates a time/perspective shift._

_Also, please note that if you dislike an abundance of original characters, you'll probably hate this story._

_Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

"Behind you!"

Instinctively, she rolled forward. The axe found itself buried in the ground where she had just been, while its wielder found itself ablaze, courtesy of a timely fire spell.

"Thanks."

"No problem. That's four for me." Brilliant, he was keeping track of his kills. Leave it to Martin to find something to joke about in the middle of combat. He never seemed to take anything seriously. When he did, though, he was a force to be reckoned with. He had chosen to focus on both sword and spell with the intent of having a diverse set of skills. Complementing this was a sharp wit and a knack for anticipating enemy movements. He often acted foolishly, but he wouldn't be at her back if she couldn't trust him when the situation called for it.

Another Risen, this one a soldier wielding a lance, approached. A clumsy swing was brushed to the side and her own lance found its mark, dissipating the creature into black smoke. It had been three seconds. She couldn't help but smirk

"Seven." She might as well play along, if only to watch Martin's face fall.

His retort was cut off by a shout.

"I need help!"

Martin immediately took off towards the yell, and she followed close behind. The source wasn't hard to find; an archer, surrounded, was trying to fend off three Risen. To make matters worse, two more were closing fast. She seemed to be handling herself fine against the first three, using a knife to keep them at bay, but the Risen reinforcements might tip the scale.

Martin charged in with a fire spell, one Risen disappearing in a pillar of flame. She was only a step behind, skewering another Risen all too distracted by its prey. Martin drew his sword and cut down the third. The Risen that thought to help their allies suddenly found themselves cut down, the suddenly unopposed archer swiftly cutting them down before they could get close.

"Could you cut it a bit closer, Lyta?" Martin asked the archer, only half joking.

"Hey, I called you this time, didn't I?" Lyta retorted.

"Both of you, save it for the Risen. If you hadn't noticed, a few escaped." She pointed to a few remaining undead, running off towards the tree line. Martin grabbed his tome and started running after them. Lyta just nocked an arrow, waiting. Calling her an archer wasn't telling the full story, really. She could use a sword as well as any of them, though she preferred a knife when the enemy got too close. Her real talent, though, was her ability to blend in wherever she was. She had boundless patience and a sense for her surroundings, allowing her to pass unseen when she wanted. This skill had been augmented by her cloak, one side of which had been covered in haphazard green, brown, and gray splotches. This proved very useful in a forested environment such as this, where it broke up her profile and allowed her to blend in with the undergrowth. It was almost a rite of passage to be caught off guard by her sudden disappearances. Unfortunately, some of her talent towards hiding had even found its way into her day-to-day routine: she never left home without her cowl drawn over her face. Lyta spoke up.

"What's he at now?" Of course Lyta was in on Martin's game. She was usually encouraging him, for some reason.

"With that rescue you let him pull off, he's at 6." Lyta only nodded, and drew back.

"Poor sap. With this," she let fly, and there was suddenly one less Risen, "I'm at 13." That explained it. With all her skill, Lyta should have been able to get out of a trap like that if she tried. The fact that she hadn't was odd. By the sound of things, it was probably out of pity. Martin needed the help.

She started walking toward Martin and the remaining Risen. She had to make sure that he didn't hurt himself.

In truth, Martin was actually handling himself quite well. They all were. This was their third skirmish with the Risen ever since they found themselves laid out in a ruined fortress. A quick check around had revealed that the portal tome they brought with them was gone. If the Risen had been drawn to its power, they surely would have already been dead, killed in their sleep. But with no other lead, they had set off, hoping to at least make it out of the forest.

A fireball set the last of the fleeing Risen low, but something was bothering her.

"The Risen don't seem the kind to run. So why did they-"

Martin cut her off, pointing at a rapidly approaching cloud of dust. "They've got horses!"

It was a trap! With the two of them out in the open, the cavalry could engage. She could make out five shapes, cavaliers by the looks of them. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem. But no matter how skilled the rider, a charge was dangerous. As the Risen drew closer, she suddenly felt very exposed.

Martin shouted out, and she moved to the side. A second later the horses thundered by, far too close for comfort. As she picked herself up, she saw one rider fall from its saddle, an arrow in its head. Good, Lyta was in range. Martin turned to look at her.

"Alright, I'll take the two on the right. You take the two on the left. Watch out for charges. We only need to distract them long enough for Lyta to line up another shot, or to get back into the trees, where we can surround them. Cainne, do what you do best."

With that, he sent a fireball blazing towards one of his targets, leaving her to figure out what to do with hers. The riders were coming around again, trying to make another pass. Her lance was short, made for close fighting or mounted combat. Trying to stop a charging cavalier with it would only result in her being run over by a dead horse. That left her with only one option. Martin _had_ said to do what she did best, after all.

She inverted her lance and planted it in the ground. She wouldn't be needing it. Then she started running towards the enemy. Her hand went to the small stone hanging on a cord around her neck, and she felt a slight tugging sensation in her stomach as she reached for the energy within.

Then she _changed_. There was an unusual, but not uncomfortable sensation as bones shifted and elongated. Fur sprouted over her skin as she shifted form, limbs lengthening and bending. A specially designed system of straps and rings attached to the joints of her armor stretched and unfolded to accommodate the change, leather flexing and metal shifting as the wearer completely changed form. Suddenly, everything on the battlefield came into sharp focus. She could make out the individual hairs on each animal's head and almost predict where each cavalier was headed, even through the dust clouds the horses kicked up. She could smell the horse's perspiration and the char from Martin's latest spell. She could feel the ground beneath her paws. And she could hear everything. The beat of hooves against dirt, the calls of her ally trying to contain his enemy, the twang of a bowstring as Lyta responded, bringing down another rider. She could even detect the increase in the horses' heart rates as they noticed the threat that now stood in front of them.

It was almost a pity that the Risen didn't feel fear. Now, for their obstinacy, they would face the wrath of a Taguel.

The three remaining horses, scared, broke their charge and reared back. Cainne took the opportunity and lunged at the nearest rider. The creature didn't even have time to react before it was unhorsed and pinned to the ground. A bite to the throat finished it.

This of course drew the attention of the other two riders, who turned to face the Taguel. Cainne took a step back, settling into a fighting stance. The first one lunged with a spear, so she jumped sideways and swung at the mount. It fell, the rider tumbling to the ground. Before she could finish it off, the second cavalier was there, swinging at her with a sword, driving her back.

Only then did she hear the galloping. Cainne had been so absorbed by the battle that she hadn't noticed a sixth rider approaching from behind, quickly. Even worse, she had nowhere to go. Going backwards would get her trampled, but trying to dodge out of the way would leave her vulnerable to the sword wielder. She dodged to the side. A sword wound was better than being trampled into the dust.

The Risen wasn't paying attention to her anymore, though. It was focused on the axe that knocked it out of its saddle as a lithe figure in light plate armor, the sixth rider, galloped past. He slowed his mount, coming to face the Taguel.

"So the demonic rabbit strikes again! Though apparently not quite quickly enough," he said, flourishing his axe.

"I had it under control, Shione. You just cleaned up the scraps. And if you ever call me a demonic rabbit again-"

"I'm just happy to be of service," he said with a mocking bow, before riding off. Despite his confidence, he rode like there were demons, or perhaps a demonic hare, behind him.

The Risen that Cainne had unhorsed had already been dispatched by Martin, who was now checking over their immediate surroundings, looking for any other threats. For now, it seemed like they were safe. Cainne shifted back and went to retrieve her lance. She grimaced at the foul taste in her mouth. Risen was not something anyone should ever have to taste. No more biting attacks, she decided. Shione and Lyta were already on their way to rejoin Martin. Soon, the four had regrouped just outside the shadows of the forest.

"Shione, showing up at the last minute, as always. How'd you do?" Martin asked.

"If you're curious about my kill count for that silly competition of yours, it's two." Martin's triumphant grin was cut off as Shione continued to speak. "I did manage to find a fair amount of important information, however. Not only that; I found a horse," He said, gesturing over to his newly acquired steed. It had been tied to a tree with three of the remaining horses that the Risen had used, gathered by Shione after the battle. He'd always had a way with horses and other creatures, which was why he preferred mounted combat. Lyta, astutely, saw something was wrong.

"I was wondering why you'd decided to demote yourself to a common, everyday horse. Don't you usually prefer something more...flighty?"

"I didn't have time to get to the stables when we were called to find Aiden. We all rushed, things were forgotten or left behind. And I'd rather have a mount, even one stolen by the Risen, than fight on the ground with you peasants," he finished, only half kidding.

Right, Aiden. The reason they were here, wherever "here" was. She'd been able to put that out of her mind during combat, but now the situation had again reared its ugly head. For some reason, Aiden had decided to steal some very important relics. The four of them, as his onetime friends, were sent to stop him. The warning had come quickly, luckily. Had no one detected the theft sooner, he'd have escaped, and they'd have no idea where to look. As it was, their hasty response had allowed them to track him to, and then through, a portal. They just had to find him. Somehow.

"You said you had important information?" Martin continued, bringing Cainne out of her thoughts. She should be paying attention.

"Right. As you know, I went scouting to try to figure out where we were. Well, I managed to get the jump on a lone Risen rider, probably doing the same thing I was. Since they seem to prefer living mounts, I was able to take his horse and find the road. A few miles from here is a rest station for merchants, caravans, and the like. According to the owner, last night was a bit troublesome. He says that the ground near here opened up and spewed flame, and that a few hundred white lights appeared all around the countryside. I think we can agree that's not normal," he said, using his characteristic sharp tongue. "Apparently the Risen started showing up after the lights disappeared." Martin spoke up, cutting Shione off.

"It'd probably be safe to assume that those lights were portals. That explains how the Risen got here. We still don't know why, though."

"I was getting to that! Apparently, a caravan that was resting for the night came under attack. They would have been done for, but a hooded man with two swords saved them. Now-" Lyta cut him off.

"That sounds like Aiden! So we know that he was here, like us." Shione, somewhat flummoxed, continued.

"That's not all. The man says that he could see a spell tome of some sort tied to the man's side. Said it was pure white and unmarked. As I was saying-"

"He managed to take the tome from us. That isn't good." Cainne said, though they were all thinking it. Then Martin spoke.

"He can't do much with it right now. Anywhere that it could be used is bound to be inaccessible for a single traveler. It'd either be too far away or too dangerous to be convenient. And remember, from what we know, he might have been just as rushed, if not more, in his escape. If I were Aiden, I'd be headed towards the nearest city for supplies and a place to hide out. He has the tome we brought, so he knows we're here. He can't actually do anything about it, though. Not without taking some extreme measures."

"If you will let me speak," Shione almost shouted, "I think I know where he's headed. The owner said that the caravan was headed to the nearest city, to the north. Ylisstol. Here's the interesting thing, though," He stopped, making sure he wasn't about to be interrupted again. "When I first showed up at his door, the owner assumed that I was part of the Ylissean Guard, here to deal with a bandit problem. Apparently they've been a problem here on the border for some time. The man says they look and sound like they're Plegian, but so far nothing has been done."

"The earth broke open, Risen are appearing everywhere, and Plegia might be raiding Ylisse? This doesn't bode well," Cainne spoke. "In fact, it sounds like the precursor to the war."

"Unfortunately, I think Cainne is right. We all knew time and place might vary between Outrealms," Martin said, "but if we don't find Aiden soon, we might be getting a very dangerous history lesson, very soon. We have to get going, and pick up some supplies while we're at it. I'd recommend heading to Ylisstol."

There was a small chorus of affirmations, and it was decided. They would go to the capital and prepare for their search. If things went smoothly, they might be home soon. If not, they were looking at an increasingly dangerous hunt. Cainne knew which she'd prefer.

* * *

_Hey everyone, thanks for reading! _

_This marks the second chapter of what I've been thinking of as the "exposition block", three chapters at the beginning of this story whose purpose is to set up the story. I promise that things get more interesting, and more Fire Emblem relevant, starting with chapter 4._

_I'm posting this earlier than expected, because I've decided that I want to get through this exposition block as quickly as possible, and because I finished my third chapter already (as I said before, I'm keeping at least one chapter in reserve in case my schedule gets a lot more intense. This is a distinct possibility.)_

_Please, check the author profile for more information on this chapter._

_Thanks for reading, and please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

Ylisstol: a cultural marvel. A city fortified for war, but founded on peace. The central castle, visible even from beyond the city limits, had been built on hillside long ago. Even now it towered over the countryside, watching over the city below it. Even in the days of the first Exalt, the site had been promising enough that it was declared the seat of power for the new nation. Since then, the city had developed and been changed many times over the years, eventually approaching its current form under the rule of the last Exalt. The fortified walls and towers surrounding the city were his creations; he wanted to ensure the safety of his capital while he went to war.

Many of those fortifications now stood dormant, unneeded in the light of Ylisse's new place in the world. Now, those soldiers stationed here intended to keep the peace rather than break it. Ylisstol had flourished under the current Exalt's peaceful and benevolent rule. Market stalls and stores lined many streets, their wares bringing in trade and new ideas. People of all kinds crowded the city, both residents and visitors. Above it all stood the castle, converted to a majestic symbol of the nation's devotion to peace.

This would be any visitor's first view of Ylisstol, and it would have been Aiden's, if he wasn't stuck at the gate.

"For the last time, I cannot let you in." The speaker was a member of the Ylissean Guard. A foot soldier, by the looks of things, assigned with the rest of his unit to guard the main entrance to the city. He was also in Aiden's way.

"Do I look like an undead menace to you?"

"I don't know, because you won't lower that hood of yours. You're obviously alive, I'll give you that, but those creatures are only the most recent on our list of problems. In case you haven't noticed, bandit attacks in the countryside are becoming more and more frequent. They're getting bolder, and deadlier. So no, I'm not going to allow an unknown, obviously armed stranger into the city, especially if they refuse to allow me to even see their face."

Apparently even peaceful cities still stepped up the security at any sign of trouble. That would make it harder for him. It wasn't wise to be a wanted criminal when security forces were wary. No, it would be best if no one could even recognize his face. The hood would stay up.

"If you refuse to cooperate, I must ask you to please move on. You're holding up-"

"Hold on there! I can vouch for this man!" Oh, thank the gods. It was Lindon, the owner of a caravan he'd traveled here with. The man was short and stocky, but his charisma made up for his lack in stature. "He saved my caravan a few days back, and my livelihood with it. He's with me." The guard grumbled slightly, but agreed. He walked away with Lindon to look over the merchant's goods. It looked like Aiden was in.

Truly, Lindon had been a blessing. He had provided a safe and comfortable ride to Ylisstol in exchange for Aiden's protection, and his companionship had made the days on the road pass much more quickly. Now he had just cleared the way into Ylisstol. It had been a stroke of luck to find such good company headed in the exact direction he needed to go. Even better, Lindon and his people respected Aiden's privacy. If it had been any other merchant, things could have gone differently. If it had been one of the Annas, for example, he'd probably have walked away that night after paying for the privilege of fighting off a Risen horde.

He noticed that Lindon was approaching, having concluded whatever business he needed to finish before entering the city. The man put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in closer before speaking.

"In the future, you might want to leave the stubborn streak behind. Even the best merchants know when to stop haggling."

"Thanks for the advice, but I'm not stubborn. I just couldn't comply with that request," Aiden responded. Lindon just chuckled.

"He stubbornly refutes his own stubbornness. Ha! In any case, I just want to thank you again for your help. The only reason I'm at market here is because of you. If you need any help while I'm in the city, let me know."

"Thank you, but I should be fine. I'm no stranger to the city. It's been nice working with you, Lindon." With that, he turned, and walked into the city.

Aiden was in Ylisstol, finally. Now he just needed to figure out what to do with himself. Here he was, nameless, just before the outbreak of a major war. Worse was to come in the next few years. And until he could find some way to Mount Prism, he was stuck here.

As he mulled his problems over, what had seemed like a problem before was starting to look like an opportunity. He had left home with the intention of finding somewhere safe to hide, and to train for battles to come in his line of work. This realm didn't seem exactly safe, but what better place was there for a warrior to train than battle? He could perfect his own skill and perhaps find some allies in the months to come. When the time finally came, he would be much better prepared to face the challenges to come. A bit of training would make his return home a lot easier, at the very least. If he could remain here until the time when he could prove himself, that would be even better.

Unfortunately, that time wouldn't come for another few years, at least. It'd be a long wait, but he wasn't going to be doing anything else for a while anyways. And with the amount of work he'd need to put in to pull this off, he might need all that extra time.

He was getting ahead of himself, though. More important than his ultimate goal was his current situation. Lindon had been a good travelling companion, but now he was on his own. He had very little in terms of food or supplies, but he did have some coin. And what better a place was there to experience a thriving market than Ylisstol?

Aiden started walking towards the markets. As he walked, he thought. Before he could go about enacting his plan, he'd need to establish himself here. His coin would only last so long, and he didn't have a way to make more yet. For that matter, he didn't have a place to sleep, either. This was troubling, but he'd think more on it later. The throngs of people around him seemed to be unusually excited about something. As he walked, Aiden managed to catch a few fragments of conversation in the crowd around him.

"-Going to deal with those bandits, I hear."

"-Some sort of diplomatic mission. They're-"

"This doesn't bode well, I think. Why else would the Shepherds be needed?"

Shepherds? If they were involved, he had to pay attention. A vendor was hawking trinkets and bargain magical items nearby. While "bargain" magic was at the least useless and at the most dangerous, the man looked to have stablished himself here. He might know what was going on. Aiden walked over.

"Excuse me, sir. I was hoping you could tell me what has everyone excited," he asked. The shopkeeper stared at him for a few seconds, then spoke.

"I'm surprised you ain't heard already. A whole bunch of them Shepherds marched off earlier today. Heard it was something to do with Ragna Ferox. I haven't ever seen a more motley collection of people, and in the company of a prince, too. Wouldn't be surprised if a fair portion of them were mercenaries or brigands he found on the road. That prince seems to have a fondness for some very odd folks. Now, you gonna buy somethin'?"

Aiden declined, but handed the man a few coins for his troubles. The man had earned them. Prince Chrom was headed for Ragna Ferox? That meant that things were escalating. Ylisse was calling out to its allies, fearful of what might come.

The man had said something else, though, that stuck with him. He'd thought that a few of the Shepherds were mismatched enough to be mercenaries, a valid thought. Inadvertently, he also gave Aiden an idea.

Mercenary work might be the key. It'd provide a source of income, a place to stay, and an easy path to making friends, as much as anyone in that business could be friendly. He was an accomplished warrior, so it probably wouldn't be too hard to enlist. With the war coming, there would be no shortage of work, either.

As he walked into the market, Aiden was much more at ease than when he first arrived. He had a plan now, one that could work. He wasn't wandering this new world blindly anymore. In fact, except for the rumble in his stomach, he felt better than he had in a long time. Finally, he was free, and no one was going to stop him now.

Riding was not Lyta's forte. She could pick off a target at a few hundred yards, crack even the most complex locks, disappear into any wooded area with just a little preparation, and even cast a spell or two. But As soon as she got on a horse, all her training went out the window. Horses were fundamentally opposed to what she did. A horse belonged on the plains, not tramping through the woodlands she knew. A horse couldn't be stealthy. Obviously, A horse didn't have the manual dexterity to use a bow and arrow. And as she was rapidly learning, a horse lacked the capacity to feel anything but hatred towards her. That was the only explanation for why any horse she had ever tried to ride had never seemed to pay any attention to the directions she gave it. No matter how hard she pulled on the reins or spurred the animal on, the response was always the same: the horse continued on its own path, at its own pace. Occasionally, it graced her with a derisive snort. This particular beast had decided to follow its kin, luckily, so she wasn't too far behind.

No one else was having any problems, of course. Shione, ever the mounted savant, had taken the lead, guiding their small party through all manner of trails and roads on the path to Ylisstol. As usual, Martin had adapted to riding as if it were second nature. Even Cainne, who preferred to transform and outpace a horse had no trouble coaxing her beast where she wanted it to go.

If only Lyta could do the same. Instead, she was stuck at the back of the line, hoping that her horse kept its interest in the others. At least no one would notice her troubles, as long as they didn't look back.

"Hey Lyta, is something wrong?" Of course, someone had. As usual, it was Martin. That man was always the source of her consternation, and to make matters worse, he didn't even realize that he was doing it! One day, she'd-

"Uh, Lyta? You ok?" Of course, she'd been lost in her thoughts again. Great.

"I'm fine, thanks. Let's just get there already, ok?" In response, Shione spoke up.

"We should be able to see the city soon. We'd have made it quicker if a certain someone hadn't insist we stop at every inn we visited," he said, glaring pointedly at Martin.

"I just wanted to make sure everyone was ok. We don't all have your training in the saddle," Martin replied. "We didn't have food or supplies, either. Without my stops, and the generosity of those farm people, we'd have all starved before we got here."

"Speak for yourself, human. I could have hunted," Cainne replied.

"And I am sure that there's a colony of carrots out there somewhere who is very grateful that I made sure you didn't," Martin retorted. Everyone was being friendly, but Lyta saw that this could escalate quickly. They had been traveling for a few days, and even Martin's stops hadn't been nearly enough respite. They were all weary and tired of traveling, so they were irritable. As much as she didn't want to draw attention to her predicament, she'd have to do something to calm them down. With this group, it was almost business as usual.

"Hey Cainne, have you considered what you'll do when we reach Ylisstol? I hate to say it, but you're kind of conspicuous. People with large, floppy ears are a little too uncommon."

"I'd thought about it, but nothing's come to mind. I guess I'll have to stay out of the city, unless our tactician's figured out something better," Cainne responded. Her tone suggested that she expected something brilliant or horribly stupid. Martin turned to face her, sheepishly.

"Sorry, but no. On the bright side, we need someone to keep an eye around the city, in case we're wrong about Aiden's need to stay there."

"I can accept this," Cainne responded. Lyta breathed a sigh of relief. That had gone a lot better than she'd hoped. Cainne could be unexpectedly volatile. Lyta had been trying to think of what to do about the conspicuous Taguel, but had come up short. She'd been ready to offer up her hooded cloak, but she imagined that trying to wear it with large, sensitive ears would not be something Cainne would agree with. Besides, she liked her cloak. They crested a hill, and Shione spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Ylisstol." He gestured towards an amazing sight. In the light cast by the sunset, they could see the magnificent city, sprawled across the land before them. Candles and lanterns were starting to be lit, so the city seemed to sparkle in the sun's dying light. It was somewhat magical. Lyta looked around to see her companions staring in awe. They must have been having similar thoughts. After the time they had spent traveling, it seemed too fantastical to be true. Unfortunately, reality beckoned to Lyta.

"It will be dusk soon, and the gates are probably already closed. We should try to make camp for the night."

The rest of the group murmured their assent, and got to work. Shione went off to find firewood to chop while Martin set about unpacking some sleeping rolls a few farmers, thankful for their aid against the Risen, had given them. Lyta set off to try to find something to hunt. It was going to be a long day tomorrow, and they'd need their energy.

Robin shouldn't have been surprised that the Risen were here. They'd spread very far in the first few days since their appearance, if the rumors were anything to judge by. He'd prepared for conflict. What he hadn't prepared for was a large, shirtless man who somehow managed to forget the massive battleaxe he carried with him. The Risen skirmishing party had taken advantage of a nearby river crossing too set up a checkpoint, of sorts. It was a good tactic for a bunch of mindless husks. It wasn't good enough, however, Not with Robin managing the Shepherds. Even if one of them was a little more…forgetful than the rest.

How had Robin become the Shepherd's tactician, anyway? Before now, he'd been some random guy in a field that somehow knew the name of someone he didn't know. He wasn't exactly the star candidate for a tactician. For some reason, though, Chrom trusted him, even if Frederick didn't. To be honest, he wasn't entirely sure he trusted himself. That dream had been far too ominous. Robin was determined, though. He'd prove himself to these Shepherds. For a group of people he'd barely known the day before, he cared for them a lot. He'd make sure that no harm came to them.

The battle was going well, fortunately. The men and women around him were obviously experienced in combat, able to give to the enemy much more than they got in return. As usual, Frederick was a bulwark between his lord and the enemy, striking down any that dared approach. The two cavaliers, Sully and Stahl, were travelling around the sides of the main force, darting in to strike the enemy's flanks when they saw a chance. The self-proclaimed "Archest of Archers", Virion, was doing a good job of staying out of the enemy's range, using the others as cover while he struck down weakened foes. Lissa was staying back with Vaike, ready to heal any serious wounds, a role that was quickly proving unnecessary.

He noticed someone approaching quickly from behind. Judging from the oversized hat and the spell tomes, it had to be Miriel, the mage Stahl had mentioned. For some reason, she was carrying a large axe. The mystery was solved when, moments later, she walked over to Vaike and handed it over, a look of disappointment on her face. At least someone in this group was sensible enough to notice an oversized axe on the ground.

Noticing a gap in the enemy's formation, he charged in. This battle would be over soon, and with any luck, they'd be at the Feroxi border in a few days. He had no way of knowing what he had done before he woke up in that field. Now, though, was different. He was a tactician with something to prove, and he would make sure he did just that.

He shouldn't have taunted fate like that. In his arrogance, Aiden had defied the gods, claiming that he couldn't be stopped. Their intervention must have been the cause for his failure. No matter how hard he tried, Aiden was continually running up against an immovable obstacle in his path.

He couldn't haggle.

No matter how hard he worked, he could not get a single merchant to part with their wares for a reasonable price. Food hadn't been a problem; that usually came with a set price. He'd managed to find some cheap lodgings, though it came with the hidden cost of being located in one of the less respectable parts of town. That meant the surrounding neighborhood was a bit more crowded than the main street, a bit louder, and supposedly more dangerous. If his own lodgings were anything to go by, it was dirtier, too. Nevertheless, he'd gotten the basic necessities, for now.

Anything beyond that was proving to be impossible. As he was currently operating alone, he'd thought it a good idea to stock up on vulneraries and elixirs, a spare blade in case one of his broke, as well as a change of clothes. It was a pretty simple, if somewhat pricey, list. Or so he thought.

The tailors in the city marketed all sorts of clothing, but anything battle-ready was not sold, apparently. Neither were weapons of any kind, if the smiths were to be believed. Apparently there wasn't any sort of market in the city founded on peace. The only buyers were the guards and royalty, and they had their own sources. All that left Aiden with was the healing supplies. That wasn't turning out well either.

"Listen, please, I'm not going to buy a package of vulnerary tonic for 1000 gold. That's practically highway robbery! Is there any way you can go lower?"

"I'll have you know that these goods are of the highest quality! Our customers include royalty. You should be thanking me for being as generous as I am." Aiden glared at the shopkeeper, whose small roadside stand placed in the cheapest part of town certainly didn't service royalty. He opened his mouth, but his retort was cut off by someone in the crowd bumping against him as they passed.

Of course he'd just been pick pocketed. That was a common enough strategy, almost to be expected in this part of the city. He didn't need to be an experienced thief to know that his money pouch was gone, untied by nimble fingers. This was not what he needed today.

There! Making their way out of the crowd was a kid, moving away from Aiden as quickly as possible without seeming conspicuous. It wasn't enough, though. Aiden saw him fumbling with a small satchel, trying to hide it. He started walking towards the kid, leaving the shopkeeper to stammer on about their quality wares. Sure enough, the kid noticed, and took off. Aiden shoved his way through the crowd and followed.

The kid was quick, but he was quicker. Had this been an open field, he'd have caught the thief in no time. The city street was far from open, however. People and market stalls were everywhere, and buildings could block the view of a side street until Aiden was almost on top of it. The little pickpocket could duck under crowds Aiden had to go around, and he knew the city well.

He turned a corner with Aiden right behind him, grabbing at someone's purse as he went. While he was unsuccessful, he hadn't really wanted it anyway. The crowd turned to see the source of the commotion, and all they saw was a hooded man running at full sprint. They went to stop the perceived pickpocket, letting the real one get away. Aiden saw the crowd forming around him, saw an unoccupied market stall, and did something stupid. He sprinted towards the stall and jumped over it, cutting off the crowd behind him. He hit the ground with a roll, and kept going. The kid, who had stopped to admire his handiwork, stared at him with wide eyes before taking off around a corner.

Aiden made the turn, only to be confronted with yet another wall of people. He pushed his way through, only to see a dead end. The kid was gone, with all his money. There was literally nothing here. Somehow, the pickpocket had vanished.

Aiden was about to turn around and give up for the day when he heard a door slam shut nearby. The source seemed to be a bar. It had seen better days, obviously. The sign was dingy enough as to be unreadable, though Aiden thought he could make out a stag behind all the dirt. Despite the disrepair, there was light shining from beyond the grimy windows. Perhaps the thief had gone in there.

The first thing to hit Aiden when he walked in was the noise. It sounded like everyone inside were doing their best to outyell each other. Mixed in with the roaring and the cheering were swears and cries for food or drink. Then he was hit by the smell. It was some unholy combination of copious amount of alcohol, vomit, and unwashed human. As if to confirm what his other sense were telling him, Aiden looked around. The bar, a relatively small establishment, was packed to the brim with a group of large, boisterous, and drunk fighters. They looked to be a varied group, composed of every kind of lowlife around. He saw thieves, pickpockets, fighters, brawlers, a few men who reminded him of barbarians, and surprisingly a few mages. In the center of the room was a giant of a man, standing a good few inches over anyone else in the room. He was coarsely dressed, barefoot, and bald except for a ponytail of dark, greasy hair. What caught Aiden's attention was his company: the little pickpocket, shaking the man's arm while pointing at the door. No, not at the door, at Aiden. The giant looked up and locked eyes with the newcomer. He grimaced, and started to walk over.

"You lost?" He said in a deep, gravelly voice.

"That kid stole my money." Aiden responded. The kid stuck his tongue out at Aiden, and the giant let out a low chuckle.

"It ain't yours anymore. Get lost, before I make you." He said with a note of finality before turning away.

"I'm not leaving until I get my money back." The giant swung around and the men between them backed away, quickly. Suddenly the room seemed very empty.

"I'll give you one last chance: get lost before I cave your skull in!" The brute yelled. Aiden didn't move. The giant spoke, his voice suddenly a menacing calm.

"I tried to warn you. I really did. Now you're going to leave without your money or your health." It was at this point that Aiden really started to take in the man's giant frame, his massive arms, and the large, metal rings he wore. He should have listened to Lindon. Now his stubborn streak was going to get him killed.

The man swung at him. It was a slow hit, but Aiden had no doubt that if it connected, he'd feel it. He jumped back, only to be jostled from behind. The thugs smelled a fight brewing, and had encircled the pair in a sea of bodies. There was no escape now. To make matters worse, the man was already too close for Aiden to even attempt to draw his weapons. It was going to be a brawl.

The man swung again, and Aiden dodged to the side. Any action he could have taken was interrupted by another swing. For all his size, he wasn't giving away any openings. Aiden dodged another blow, barely noticing a follow up from below. He barely had time to jump out of the way, a massive fist missing his chin by inches. The giant was slow to follow up from this massive swing, taking a few extra seconds to readjust. It was apparent he'd planned to end the fight there. He almost had.

Aiden took a few experimental swings of his own, testing the brute's defenses. The brute responded well, blocking and deflecting every blow. It was only Aiden's skill that prevented him from being grabbed. That wasn't going to work. The crowd had picked up on what was going on, and had started to cheer. They must have had a clear idea of who was going to win, because it wasn't Aiden's name he heard being repeated over and over. The big man seemed to take the praise in, cracking a huge smirk and launching into another series of attacks. If Aiden didn't do something soon, he was as good as dead. He couldn't keep dodging forever.

He pivoted around the makeshift ring, never taking his eyes off his opponent. Now, the brute's back was to the door, while he was against the bar. His next dodge set his back against the bar, seemingly with nowhere to go. The man sent a crushingly powerful blow directly at Aiden's face. At the last moment, Aiden dropped low, using everything he had, along with the brute's own overextension, to send him crashing into the bar overhead. Aiden leapt up, not letting his one advantage go to waste. The man was sprawled over the bar, obviously stunned by the sudden fall. He grabbed the man's head and smashed it into the bar, hard. Amazingly, the giant, dazed, turned around and tried to get back up. Aiden didn't relent, launching into a flurry of punches that sent the man reeling back. He swept the unsteady brawler's legs out from underneath him, sending him toppling to the floor. For good measure, Aiden landed a hard jab to the fallen giant's temple, knocking him out.

He stood up, and looked around. The bar had fallen silent. Many were staring in awe. A few were shaking their heads. One was collecting money from his disbelieving peers. Smart man, betting on a professional.

Suddenly, there was uproarious laughter from a corner table. Sitting there, his feet propped up on a table, was one of the more interesting barbarians Aiden had ever seen. The man was large, though not as tall as the man he'd just downed. He had an impressive scar down one side of his face, complete with an eye patch. What caught Aiden's attention, though, was his mane. His hair was thick, ragged, and bright red. It trailed down his face into a large braid that extended to chest length. Other than that, the only thing covering his chest was a series of leather straps and scars, typical of many veteran barbarians. His shoulders were covered by bone plates, one in the fashion of some mythical beast's oversized skull. On his back was an oversized tomahawk, notched from many uses. This man was clearly dangerous, and judging by the respect the normally irreverent thugs showed him, everyone knew it. He finished his chuckling, and looked at Aiden.

"That was a good fight! Boy, give him his coin purse. The lad's earned it!" He then indicated to the young thief that had gotten Aiden into this mess.

The little pickpocket grudgingly dug out the coin purse, and tossed it over to Aiden. He snatched it out of the air, and then sat down at the table, where the barbarian was indicating.

"I don't know who you are, but you just showed one of my best men his own eyelids. I could use talent like that. You looking for work?" Aiden's eyes narrowed. He was getting an odd feeling about this.

"That depends on who it is asking. What do you do?" The barbarian cracked a sleazy grin, and looked over to one of the thugs.

"This here is my merry band of soldiers. We're sellswords, of a sort. Right now, we have a nice job retrieving important cargo. You want in?" Something about the way the man said "cargo" gave Aiden a bad feeling. He did not want to get mixed up with this group. Even he wasn't going to stoop that low.

"No thanks, I'm not looking for work. It was a pleasure meeting, you, though," he said through gritted teeth, before walking off. He'd have to find work somewhere else. The barbarian, unperturbed, shouted after him

"Keep us in mind, will you? The name's Bron! Remember it!"

As the door slammed shut, one of the thugs looked over to their leader.

"Boss, you think it's a good idea, letting him go like that?" Once again, Bron cracked a lecherous smirk.

"Did you see the paltry sum of coin he was chasing so hard? That man needs work, and he's going to want somewhere where he can put that skill to use. He'll be back."

Aiden emerged from the dark of the alley into the sunlight of the crowded but much less threatening street. That could have gone worse, he supposed, though he didn't like the looks some of those thugs were giving him. Even after taking down that goliath, some of them seemed ready to kill. He'd have to watch his back from now on-

Damn! Aiden ducked into a recessed doorway, barely peeking around the corner. A very familiar figure dressed in plate was standing just down the street. The man was leaning into a market stall, head obscured, but Aiden could tell who it was. Even if the spell tome dangling on a chain at the warrior's side hadn't given him away, the gloves did. They were custom made, thick leather with metal studs all around the forearm, with much lighter protection around the hands. Their wearer had once told Aiden that he used them in place of a normal shield normally when he needed to. He'd said that it was a lot harder to wield a spell tome with a big metal plate on his arm, so he'd substituted. Plus, they proved useful in unarmed combat, to hear him say it. Not that Martin had ever strayed from his sword and spells long enough to try.

If Martin was here, that meant the others might be close behind. The city was no longer safe for Aiden, that much was clear. He needed to shorten his plans and leave as soon as possible. He watched as Martin eventually left, then walked as quickly as he could in the opposite direction. When Martin looked back, there was no one to be seen.

"I have returned, and I come bearing gifts!" Martin shouted as he entered the clearing where the four had set up camp. Lyta looked up, surprised. Martin had been gone an unusually long time, and the others had started to worry. Shione, as usual, was the first with a comment.

"What took you so long? Lyta and I had already finished with our jobs an hour ago." Lyta nodded. She'd been very glad to find out that she was the first back in camp.

"I managed to find a week's worth of food and drink, as well as a few things to help improve the campsite. Shione here has already drawn up a list of leads that might point to Aiden. Did you have trouble finding things?" She couldn't resist rubbing it in, just a little. It served him right for riding so well.

"No, I didn't. In fact, I managed to convince a merchant on a really good price for a few vulneraries. Only 500 gold for a whole lot of them. Since we don't have a healer, I figured it was a good investment," martin responded, slightly indignant. Cainne then spoke up.

"Did you figure out any way to get me into the city? I'd hate to be stuck out here while everyone else was inside the city." Once again, Martin studiously avoided eye contact.

"Unfortunately, no. Everyone's on high alert right now with all the Risen. I can't think of any feasible way to get into the city, especially with your aversion to headwear. What took me so long was an Anna I found with some interesting wares, which gave me a few ideas, but I don't expect them to work. We can consider the details later." Cainne groaned. Lyta almost responded in kind. Martin couldn't stay focused if he wasn't in battle, to the misfortune of everyone around him. Luckily, Cainne was patient.

"That's unfortunate, but I suppose it is necessary. Shione, please tell me you have had more success."

Shione took out a map and started to mark down the various gossip he'd heard in the city and in the surrounding countryside. None of the party had any way of knowing that their mark was currently headed down the main road just yards from their campsite, having stowed away in a traveler's cart. As they plotted out their search plans, he was already gone.

_Chapter 3 finished! Interestingly enough, it is approximately the same length as the other two chapters combined, which I am proud about. Honestly, I'm starting to get excited every time I have something new to share. From the first of next month (hopefully), I'll try to release chapters every 15 days. It'd be better, though, if anyone who cares would expect that I'll miss the deadline, so you won't be disappointed when I do. _

_This chapter marks the end of the story's exposition, and the transition into the main events of Fire Emblem: Awakening. Yes, that means next chapter will be much more grounded in actual events. Hooray!_

_As usual, there's more info to be found in the author bio, and please leave reviews! It seems like many people aren't getting past the first chapter, and while I understand that not everyone likes every story, I would like to know if there's anything that I should fix._


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a busy month for Robin. Over the course of a single diplomatic mission, the Shepherds had somehow found their way into far too many fights. It had started with the Feroxi border guard, who, convinced they had been bandits, attacked them. At least Sumia found her one true calling with a Pegasus. Robin sincerely hoped she wouldn't trip while flying. That was one explanation that he did not want to give to Chrom.

After the skirmish at the border, they made it to Ragna Ferox with little trouble, until he'd made an utter fool of himself in front of the Khan. It seemed a reasonable assumption to make when the vast majority of warriors he met were men, but apparently fate was not kind enough to let his erroneous statement go by without an audience.

Perhaps that slight was why he'd been part of the team fighting for the Kahn in the arena. Luckily, the fight to follow had distracted everyone from his blunder, especially when Marth had shown his face. Well, not exactly, but the masked swordsman had once again made an appearance, this time wielding Falchion. Somehow. Robin was unsure as to how the supposedly one-of-a-kind sword had made an appearance with two different fighters in the same battle, but it wasn't entirely unconventional. Many older stories and historical accounts somehow had Falchion jumping continents in the span of mere days, to be wielded by different heroes of legend. It was entirely possible that there was more than one sword made from Naga's fangs, and that none had been seen together before now. That didn't explain Marth's skill with the weapon, or his fighting style, which seemed to match Chrom's every move. Unfortunately, Robin had nowhere to turn to for answers, and so he had to let the situation drop. He suspected that the answers would come, eventually. He was sure Marth would return.

Nevertheless, they had defeated Marth and secured Ragna Ferox's assistance. Robin's troubles were far from over, however. While returning to Ylisse, they had come across a group of bandits that Chrom had set to eliminating, eventually chasing the twin leaders to the mountain fort. The prince had returned to much fanfare, but had only given the Shepherds a few days of rest. With the increase in bandit activity along the border, Chrom had set out to protect the people. A farm boy had brought their attention to his village, currently suffering under the hand of a raider. This was where Robin currently found himself, listening in to an incredibly odd conversation. Apparently, this was his life now.

"Listen, kid. If you want to be a hero, I've got just the things you need. I've got high quality weapons and armor, even something to replace that dinged-up pot on your head!"

"Ah never said that I wanted to be a hero! And I'm keepin' mah helmet!"

"Anna, stop trying to sell the kid stuff. Donnel, don't worry about it. We'll find your mother soon. We just need to wait for nightfall," Robin said. He put his hand on the young man's shoulder and walked him away from the money-crazed merchant, before kneeling down. "This isn't a nice experience for anyone to have to go through. I'm sorry. I know you're probably terrified, and that's ok. We all get nervous when it comes to a battle. I'm going to give you this spear, in case you need to defend yourself. Feel free to stay back. We can handle the situation."

"Awright, I can do that. Ah reckon that you n' Chrom will send those no-good bandits packing!"

Robin walked off, thinking. He was honestly worried for the kid, a farm boy named Donnel. His family had been imprisoned by a bunch of thugs, and though he was trying to act brave, Robin could tell that Donnel was nervous. At the same time, he saw some potential in the kid. Something about the way he carried himself suggested that he could do great things, despite his humble talents. Perhaps…

"Kellam, are you around?"

"I've been following you for the past ten minutes, waiting for orders." Gods above, it didn't make sense that such a large man could be so silent. The armor should have given him away, at the very least.

"I'm sorry, really. In any case, I need you to do me a favor. Stick with Donnel and make sure he isn't hurt," Robin glanced over at the newest Shepherd quartermaster before adding "by anyone. Ok?"

Kellam nodded before walking off. Robin followed him with his eyes. He was going to make sure that he could find that man whe- wait, where'd he go? Kellam, another great mystery of the Shepherds.

Robin started walking towards the command tent. He needed to plan tonight's strategy, especially how to get the prisoners free without the bandits harming them. As he walked, he could hear the sounds of a conversation. It sounded like Chrom and Sumia. After her daring antics at the Feroxi Border, she and Chrom had really hit it off. Robin got the sense that they had been companions in the Shepherds before, but now it seemed like they were friends. Interestingly enough, this wasn't an isolated phenomenon. Many of the shepherds seemed to be getting increasingly friendlier with each other. Robin wasn't exempt, either. He'd taken to planning tactics with Virion in his off time, and he'd started to gain Frederick's trust. Chrom was his closest friend in the group, owing to their time together, and even Vaike, despite his terrible antics, had started to rub off on the tactician. Something about their mutual hatred of Sully's horse had brought them closer together. Of course, that demon steed wouldn't be after Robin if it wasn't for Vaike, but that wasn't really Robin's concern, anymore. He just hoped he could get Vaike to stop before his habit got him trampled, or worse.

Moments before he walked into the command tent, he heard an odd screech. It sounded like a certain farm boy scared out of his wits. The only reaction to follow was a scattering of laughs behind him, so Robin could only assume Kellam had gotten the jump on Donnel. Well, it was a good way to break the ice, he supposed, even if poor Kellam didn't ever mean it.

Yes, his month had been hectic, and was probably going to be more so, if the escalating tensions in Ylisse were anything to go by. With this group of people around him, though, Robin was happy. There might be trouble ahead, but Robin wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

Aiden was hungry. For the second night in a row, he hadn't eaten. That was something the stories never mentioned, that the heroes and villains never dealt with: if you weren't rich, you'd be hungry. He'd thrust himself into an alternate timeline with very little, and he was suffering the results. Travelling from village to village and defending them from the Risen had been satisfying, but it wasn't viable. No villager had coin to pay for his efforts, though they at least shared a hot meal and a place to sleep on occasion. He traveled on foot, often wandering at least a day or more before reaching the next settlement. Occasionally, he would come across signs of the war to come. Bandits, Risen, even ransacked homes and towns. What had been a grand adventure when he arrived had quickly descended into a nightmare.

Before this began, there had been no thought about finding food or water or a place to sleep. There had been dreams of glory, plans on counteracting the more pressing consequences of his actions, but he hadn't considered the long term. They had always said he was rash and impulsive. Maybe they were right. Maybe he should just find the others and give himself up. They could all make the journey to Mount Prism and return to their own realm.

No. He couldn't return. That would mean giving up everything he had done. He couldn't do that. He'd have to abandon all of the work that had led up to this, and everything he had planned for the future. It would mean facing judgment on his actions, and he had all too good an idea of how that would end. More importantly, it would mean giving up his ultimate goals, leaving behind everything and everyone that was counting on him. That was not going to happen. Too much was resting on his own success for him to give up now. He'd just have to find a way to survive. From there, he could work his way up. He'd said as much before, but this time, he knew what he had to do.

Which was why Aiden found himself walking through a dimly lit doorway in the shadow of an alleyway at night. He had returned to Ylisstol after all. He had entered the city in the late afternoon, and hidden out until evening. If his pursuers were still in the city, he did not want to give them any help in finding himself.

The raucous noise hadn't lessened in the month that he had been gone. The stench hadn't improved; in fact, it seemed even worse than before. How long was this group of thugs planning on staying around? For a brief moment, Aiden considered those who owned the establishment. Perhaps they were still here, somewhere. Maybe they had been driven out by the barbarians at their doorstep. Perhaps this entire enterprise was a front, serving as a staging ground for Bron's thugs. Perhaps it was best not to know.

"So the brawler returns! What brings a fighter such as yourself to grace us mere peasants with your presence?" Well, he found Bron, at least. The man was walking directly towards him, arms outstretched as if to welcome him in. As usual, he had that creepy grin on his face.

"Hello, Bron. Is that job offer still open?" Aiden made sure to keep his tone level, even respectful.

"I dunno, it's been a very long time." There was a pregnant pause. "Because I like you, though, I'll let you know that it is. Are you interested?" Bron grinned. Aiden noticed when he nodded, almost imperceptibly, to a nearby lackey. They quickly returned his grin.

"That depends on what the job is. I'd like to know what I'm signing up for," Aiden responded.

"But of course! You needn't worry about a thing. Everything we are doing is endorsed by the government, if that's what you're worrying about. We've simply been hired to wait here and retrieve an incredibly important package when the time comes. It's nothing too complex, don't worry, but our employers are paying handsomely. I won't ask again, so consider wisely. Are you interested?"

Aiden's instincts were telling him that this was bad, that he had to get out of here, but he suppressed them. He needed this. Though he didn't trust Bron, the man had said this was government sanctioned, too specific a requirement to be a lie, unless Bron was incredibly bold. Oh well. No one had ever said he had to like his employer.

"I'm in. Let me know when I'm needed." Bron grinned wider than usual, if that was even possible.

"Good, because we leave soon."

* * *

Bron had been true to his word. Within an hour, the entire band had packed up and vacated he premises. Aiden was with them. With discretion Aiden hadn't thought possible of a bunch of thugs, they had left the city, following a series of roads heading southwest. The precision with which they followed their path suggested that this had been planned a long time in advance. They made good time for a small horde, and by the next night had found themselves looking upon their destination.

Apparently, Aiden had signed up for guard duty. He found himself watching over a small herd of horses, mounts for Bron and a few higher-ranking members of his crew. He, along with another man, had been told to stand guard over the animals to ensure that Bron could "quickly and easily" transport the delivery when it arrived. The other man, an incredibly shifty archer who'd refused to give his name, had decided to take up position close to the herd leaving Aiden to patrol. This worked for Aiden, as it allowed him some time to try and piece things together.

The town Aiden was able to look over upon was relatively small, with only a few houses scattered between green fields. Dominating thee view was a much larger manor, ornate in decoration and proudly displaying the Ylissean seal along with a family crest. Aiden recognized the location as Themis, a dukedom with a small town on the border between Ylisse and Plegia. In the darkness a few candles had been set in windows, marking occupied structures with a dim light. The manor was much more grandly lit, but still things seemed incredibly still. The moon was in full view, shining down upon the fields nearby. Bron and his men had somehow managed to disappear, however. Aiden knew that the ruling family here were very influential in Ylissean politics, despite Themis's small size. Beyond that information, however, there wasn't much of any interest here. Why would a bunch of brigands be picking up a package here, of all places?

Some ideas had been forming in Aiden's head to explain this. The group he was working with had suddenly assumed a very high level of coordination once their mission had arrived, despite their earlier raucousness. Of course, they could have just been very professional sellswords. It wasn't that odd. Their choice of location, however, was. Why would a group with goals in Themis have a base of operations in Ylisstol? And again, why would their main goal be something in a small town like this?

Perhaps they were more than they seemed. Aiden was starting to wonder if the whole appearance of bandits was a disguise to throw off onlookers, and that these men were something else. Bandits or spies for Plegia wouldn't have stopped here; the town was too small to provide an effective safe haven, especially with their home country just across the border. No, the company's business was definitely directed here. Perhaps they were working for the Exalt. That would explain the base in the capital and the mission to its most influential dukedom. Bron had said that they were sanctioned by the Ylissean government, after all. Aiden still didn't feel safe, though. Nothing was adding up.

"Hey, Hood, ya see anything?" That was the archer, calling out to him. His habit of keeping his cowl up, something not uncommon in this group, had nevertheless earned him the nickname of Hood from the archer. No one used their real names here, it seemed. Even Aiden's employer probably hadn't, now that he thought of it.

"No, it's pretty quiet. You mind telling me what we're doing here?" Aiden responded, keeping his voice low.

"Simple, we're picking up a delivery," was all the archer said. At least it wasn't a flat out refusal.

"Care to shed any more information?" Aiden hoped he wasn't taking too much of a risk with this question.

"It's a very important package, one that our employer wants to make sure gets to them safely," the archer said. Aiden shifted a little, repositioning his cloak. He was all too aware of his own bundle, and its importance to a select few people. "If I were you, I'd stop asking questions. Knowing too much about this sort of thing can be dangerous." With this, the archer studiously looked over an arrowhead, testing the edge. Aiden got the message.

The silence was soon interrupted by the sound of booted feet. It looked like Bron and his group were making a return. Bron made his way over to the pair, but Aiden was able to catch a quick glimpse of a large sack slung over one fighter's back.

"You two, anything to report?" Bron said, his voice low but commanding. His usual uncaring attitude had been replaced by a sense of grim professionalism. The archer responded.

"We didn't see anything. It's been a quiet night. Any trouble with the pickup?" At this, Bron grinned.

"Exactly as planned. Go help the others secure it." The archer scurried off, and Aiden made to follow. He was stopped by a large hand.

"Not you," Bron said. "Our employer values their secrecy. Which means that new guys like yourself stay away from the delivery. I got another job for you."

Aiden nodded, but was cut off by a commotion near the horses. He looked over and saw his archer aquaintance reeling back, face covered in blood. Before he'd considered it, Aiden was at his side. The man's nose had been broken, and the cloth sack was lying open nearby. Whatever was inside must have fallen and hit the man. Aiden looked over-

And froze. Lying on the ground, tied up and gagged, was a small blonde woman with a look of pure hatred in her eyes. She seemed well off from her outfit, a white frilly thing popular among younger court women. Lying next to her was a small parasol.

This wasn't happening. He had not just been accomplice to a kidnapping. All the evidence was before him though, he-

"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" Aiden's heart skipped a beat. It was Bron. "I'd told you not to go snooping around where you weren't wanted. You just had to go and ruin my day. I was giving you a chance, you know. Depending on how you did on your next job, you could have joined up. Otherwise, you'd be our scapegoat, but the choice was up to you. Now, you aren't leaving me any."

"Kidnapping?" Aiden spoke, his voice barely restrained in spite of himself. "I thought you said that this was government sanctioned!" Bron just chuckled.

"I did, and it's true, too. I just didn't say which government was doing the sanctioning."

A horrible thought was forming in Aiden's mind. The figure below him looked like royalty. Even in the dim light, he could make out enough that he thought it was the duke's daughter. Bron had just confirmed an outside influence. And Aiden knew, even if no one else did, that a war was coming, soon.

He feared he had just helped start it.

He'd also managed to piss off the perpetrators.

Within a second, Aiden's blades were in his hand. For a moment, nothing happened. Suddenly, there was a deep thunk that he felt more than heard, and blinding pain roared through Aiden's mind. He couldn't focus…things were turning black. That damned weasel with a bloody nose walked past, holding a club. Aiden's blade was there, right there, he just needed to…

* * *

"You just can't trust the help these days, I suppose," Bron smirked. "Someone give me some good news." A nearby thug snapped to attention

"The guards are out cold, but not dead, like you said. We've restrained the girl more securely this time. From the look of things, we can get out of here with no trouble."

"Good. Gangrel's paying us to leave them alive. Someone has to let the Ylisseans know who it was that attacked," Bron ordered. "Don't worry, we'll have some fun with the other villages along the path, make sure the Ylisseans get the message." He looked over to the prone swordsman before him. "What are wo going to do with you?"

"Sir, lookit this!" A thief had decided to check the traitor's pockets, but had evidently found something more interesting. He was grasping a large, oblong package that had been tied to the man's back, hidden behind his cloak. Bron took the bundle and loosened the fabric. His eyes widened momentarily, and he let out a low whistle.

"What do we have here?"

* * *

The Shepherds had all made it back to Ylisstol in one piece. Robin considered that an accomplishment. Somehow, he'd started to turn a ragtag group of people with skill levels ranging from "royal knight" to "farm boy" into an effective fighting force. Given time, he figured that they could do great things.

For now, he had to figure out where to go next. The world seemed to be falling apart to Risen and bandits, and the rumors from overseas were not promising. There was no shortage of work to be done. The only problem was that there was too much, all happening at once. Robin feared that attending to a problem in one place would cause troubles somewhere else. Yet inaction due to indecision would be even worse. It seemed that the Shepherds, and by extension the tactician, never rested. At least he had good news.

"Then Regna Ferox will support Ylisse? Thank you, Chrom. I knew sending you was the right choice." The Exalt was correct. If it had been any normal diplomat, they'd have been stonewalled by Ragna Ferox's warrior culture. This was assuming they could talk their way past the murderous gate defenses. Fortunately for everyone, the Exalt apparently understood more of Feroxi culture than she let on.

The agreement had been made almost two weeks ago, now, but duty had pushed them away. Chrom had left a message to the Exalt explaining their success before heading off to save the kingdom, but Emmeryin had wanted to hear from her brother in person.

"You should see Ferox's warriors!" Chrom beamed. He was incredibly excited about the success of the mission, at least in part because of his own role in it. He'd also been happier in general, according to Vaike. The admittedly unreliable source had seen something brewing between him and Sumia that might be the cause. Robin refocused. The potential relationships of his superior officers were not his concerns. "Perhaps now our people will be safe from-"

"Your Grace! M-milord! Forgive me, but I bring alarming news!" Phila? She was shaken, an impressive feat considering the captain of the Pegasus Knights' mental fortitude. This couldn't be good.

"Phila, slow down, please! What's happened?" Emmeryn was trying to keep calm, but even she seemed shaken by Phila's sudden outburst.

"Plegian soldiers have been sighted inside our southwest border!" Damn, that wasn't good. There'd been suspicions about the bandits, but this was the first time he'd heard of the Plegians explicitly attacking. "They attacked a village in Themis and abducted the duke's daughter!" Robin was able to see the color drain from Lissa's face at this revelation. When she spoke, her voice trembled with fear.

"B-but that would be…Maribelle! Chrom, we have to do something!" Maribelle, the icy noble he'd met a month ago? How had she gotten involved in all of this? It was bad enough for Plegians to kidnap someone from Ylissean borders, but this made it personal. Somewhat. He didn't really know her, but he knew Lissa liked her.

"There's more," Phila continued, regaining some composure. "King Gangrel of Plegia claims Lady Maribelle invaded his country. He demands we pay reparations for this 'insult'." The disdain with which she spat the word was almost palpable.

The next few minutes were spent discussion options, notable for Chrom and Phila suggesting the brilliant tactic of putting a sword in the mad king's gut while the Exalt suggested diplomacy. Unfortunately, this "Mad King" didn't seem like the best diplomat. Robin stayed silent. Both ideas seemed poor, but indecision again seemed even worse.

Eventually, it was decided that Emmeryn would attempt diplomacy, while Chrom and the Shepherds would serve as guards. Robin set off to prepare. He hoped diplomacy would work, but was under no illusions. If things fell through, there could be war.

No, a Shepherd's work was never done.

* * *

"You ever think about stealing this stuff?"

"It'd be more trouble than it's worth. Are you telling me you honestly would give up your morals for some more coin?"

"Just idle chatter. I'm not honestly considering it. This job's tedious, but not _that_ tedious."

"Good to hear hard labor hasn't corrupted a paragon of virtue. I guess this is a new experience for you, huh? Working like this."

They'd been chatting like this every day they'd been here. It made the work go faster, and the occasional battle of wits helped keep them sharp. The conversation never breached their real issues. Those were too pressing, too prominent to joke about.

For Martin, crate stacking had been a great idea. For the rest of the group, it had seemed insane. With the sort of inane prattle that usually came out of his mouth, he had fully expected the odd looks. However, this time he was serious.

In any market city like Ylisstol, there were traveling merchants. These merchants brought their wares with them, usually carrying large shipments by some sort of cart. The carts weren't allowed in city limits, but these goods needed to go somewhere; there were customers waiting to make purchases. While some of the more successful salespeople had workers to help with their tasks, many small-time merchants spent good portions of their day offloading their own wares and setting up their own stalls in preparation for the next market day. Long ago, these merchants would have been stalked by thieves, ready to steal whatever was left unattended. One day, though, some enterprising rogue had realized that there was easy cash to be made from providing help to the salespeople. Soon, a sort of barter system had sprung up: the crate-stackers would help move shipments from the carts to the market for money, and if they got cheated by a miserly merchant, well, the more unscrupulous were prepared to take off running with whatever they could find. Those traders who couldn't afford full-time employees jumped at this opportunity to free themselves of a few hours' worth of hard individual labor, and soon the business at the merchant's gates had taken off.

It was an incredibly easy business to get into: all one had to do was wait for a harried merchant and give them a hand. As a result, Martin and Shione now found themselves waiting by the Northern gates, waiting for another shipment to come by. They'd been doing this for approximately two weeks and had made a small business out of it. The coin they earned went straight to their search for Aiden, whether it was buying supplies, food, or the occasional bribe. Cainne used her time out in the wild to supplement their meals. They'd hoped that she'd be able to find Aiden if he left the city, but after a few false starts, the trail had gone cold. Lyta had taken on the monumental task of searching the city, which left Martin and Shione to earn coin. He'd practically had to drag the haughty cavalier here.

That wasn't the only reason he'd chosen this job, though. It was near a prominent entrance to the city, so Martin would be able to watch anyone who entered or left by this path. While there had been no sign of their quarry, he had witnessed the Shepherds returning from Ragna Ferox.

Of greater interest was the chatter. Merchants often had stories to tell or experiences to share from their travels on the road, and they would speak freely if bored or interested enough. These travelers could be found anywhere, so Martin was constantly on the lookout for any information that could be linked to Aiden. There had been a few mentions of a traveler matching his description wandering the countryside and fighting against the occasional Risen party, but they were long gone even before the merchants themselves had heard about the figure.

So Martin and Shione waited. They did a lot of waiting these days, as travelers to the city became less and less frequent. Even without any knowledge of future events, many could read the situation for what it was: trouble was coming to Ylisse. If Aiden wasn't found soon, Martin and the others would find themselves in the middle of it. No soldier stayed idle for long once war arrived.

"Hey, check out that guy over there," Shione said, jostling Martin out of his thoughts. "He seems up to something, and he's trying to hide it badly." Indeed, the figure in question was sulking in a corner, studiously avoiding the gaze of everyone nearby. Their hand was constantly going in and out of their pocket, as if to make sure that something was there. Martin cast a glance over at Shione.

"You think it's a thief?" Not everyone was content to accept a merchant's payment. Some were willing to face the risks of a theft in order to make a quick payment. They were different than the kinds of people who'd steal if they felt cheated, because those people thought they were justified. These thieves were acting out of pure self-interest, and cast a bad name on everyone else. The crate handlers, interested in protecting their livelihood, often had to drive these lowlifes off.

"No, he looks more like he's waiting for something," Shione responded. "If he wanted to steal something, it isn't here yet. He's been waiting for too long."

"Too bad Lyta isn't here. She'd probably be able to pick out this guy's intentions from a mile away." Martin regretted sending her away. Lyta had training in many, many unsavory skills that were useful in a surprising number of situations. As a result, she had a keen eye for others in her trade.

"We might not need her. Shady over here is moving." True to Shione's word, the man was on the move. It was a laughable attempt at stealthy movement, but it was enough that anyone looking probably wouldn't care to notice the man.

Martin stayed back, and watched. He made a slight motion over to the other end of the road, and thankfully Shione understood. He started to make his way over to where Martin had motioned, slowly circling around the shady figure. If they tried to run, they'd find the main road blocked on both sides.

There was movement out of the corner of Martin's eye. Suddenly, a small figure sprinted out of a side street, running into the suspicious man. The smaller figure was quickly gone from the way he came, the suspicious figure was on the ground. Shione reacted first, moving towards the downed man. That meant Martin had the runner. Great.

He took off down the side street. This hadn't been part of their plan, improvised as it was. Then again, not many plans ever survived in their original form, a fact Martin knew well. You had to be able to adapt to changes on the fly. If you couldn't you'd be crushed by a more adaptable opponent. With any luck, his new prey was not one of those opponents.

The target was focusing solely on getting away, not caring what he left in his wake. As a result, Martin was able to track him by the people that had been knocked aside and crates that had been toppled. This guy was fast, and he knew things well. If he had been more careful, Martin would have lost him. As it was, he could barely keep track of the runner's figure, bobbing and weaving through the crowd. Martin kept looking for some advantage, a way to get ahead or stop the runner, but there wasn't anything to be seen. All he could do was to keep as close behind the figure as possible, ready for such a moment to arrive.

Suddenly, an arm reached out of the crowd and grabbed him by the shoulder. Its owner stopped him cold before turning him around and letting go. Martin almost had his sword out when he recognized the hooded figure.

"Lyta?"

"Hey Martin. Where's the fire?"

"I have to go. That kid's acting way too suspicious." He turned to leave, only to have Lyta hold him back.

"Easy. The kid's a pickpocket, one of the more infamous in the area." Lyta explained, before holding something out. "I'm better. He had this in his pocket. I snagged it as he passed." She had some sort of paper in her hand. Martin grabbed it.

"Lyta, what would we do without you?" His question went unanswered, as Shione quickly approached the pair. He looked worried.

"That was a setup! The man passed off something to the kid and took a fall to make it look like a theft. He tried to get away as soon as I got near." Shione was apprehensive, but calmed down once he realized that Lyta was there. "Oh. I assume you got it?" Martin held up the paper, but noticed something.

"Where's the man?"

"He got away. Threw dirt in my eyes as soon as he got a chance. At least I got out what I did. Heard him say something about others at the tavern, and how they'd kill him for this. He got away before I could ask more." Lyta perked up.

"I've been around, and I heard about a local bar in a bad part of town. Locals are saying it's been overrun with criminals. I can lead us there. Whatever's going on here, I say we stop by and take a look." Martin looked over, troubled.

"We're going to have to postpone that trip, people. We have a bigger problem." The look on his face was grim, the note open in his hands. "Listen to this: _Shipment received, payment to be delivered in the steppes west of the city. Tell V. to prepare his operation. If he wants to act, now is the time._ That's troubling, but then there's this: "_Ran into trouble with that swordsmaster recruit. We were going to take proper action, but there's something off with this guy. I'd rather not write it here. Let V. know there might be a flaw in his plans. Once he is done with them, get our guys up here as soon as possible. We might have a fortune on our hands. _It's not addressed to anyone, perhaps that courier is supposed to recite it. Signed with a B."

"Do we tell Cainne?" Shione said. "I mean, a reckless swordsmaster with "something off"? This sounds like Aiden. If he's there, we should let her know."

"I agree," Martin said, "But we don't know where she is right now, or when she'll be back. I shouldn't have sent her off, but it's too late now. Someone will have to stay behind to alert her. Plus, I want eyes on this plot and this "V" guy. We don't know enough." Lyta raised her hand.

"I'll do it. I can navigate these streets the best out of all of us, and with the least chance of being seen. I'll let Cainne know, and we'll figure out what to do from there." Martin nodded.

"I know the area west of the city pretty well, and I know how to get to the steppes," Shione spoke. "It's only a day's ride. How about we head off and see what we can find out about "B". If Aiden's there, this is the break we need."

"Agreed. We all know what we're doing, so let's head out. Lyta, good luck. Shione, let's get to the camp. We ride out of here as soon as possible."

* * *

Dark. It was dark. He couldn't see…no, wait, there was some light. His head hurt. Again.

Aiden really had to stop waking up like this.

Taken unawares by simple bandits. Had he really fallen this low? That shouldn't have happened, he was better than that. There had always been someone watching his back before, though. She'd always made sure that he was covered. Now she was gone, and he had to rely on himself.

That meant getting out of here, though. He was in a tent, he figured. There was no light inside, but he could see from the sunlight seeping through and under the cloth. It was intense, so it might be mid-day outside. He tried to get up, to no avail. He was tied to something on the tent's back wall. A quick look revealed post jutting out of the ground, supporting the tent. His bindings were wrapped around the post, and they'd either have to go under or over the post, neither of which was viable. Brilliant. He'd have to escape somehow, but that could wait. He wasn't going anywhere.

Currently, he was more worried about something else. His gear was gone, including his swords, cloak, armor, and most worryingly, the satchel that had been tied to his back. If those were in these bandit's hands, his situation was about to get infinitely more difficult.

The bare ground yielded no answers, and so Aiden set to work. He strained against the bonds to no avail. The rope was tough, and no amount of brute force that Aiden could summon would break it or the post. Perhaps he could use the wood post to slowly saw away at the binding, but it had been smoothed down by repeated use. Any progress would be painfully slow. Before he could start, something moved.

"…I'll go check", said a voice from outside, muffled by the fabric walls. Aiden quickly decided to act unconscious. He closed his eyes and lolled his head. Hopefully it was dark enough that they wouldn't notice.

There was a rustling sound, and heavy footsteps. Aiden felt a wave of heat as the tent flap presumably opened. They had to be somewhere warm.

"Still out?" said a quiet voice. It was Bron, somehow keeping his booming voice down. "I suppose that's for the best. Wouldn't want you hurting yourself or anyone else trying to escape. I was just going to kill you, you know. Anyone else would already be dead. Lucky for you, I checked twice, and found something interesting. You're going to be my ticket out of here. A bargaining chip, should the Mad King decide he doesn't want us anymore. I don't know your story, kid, but I know a prize when I see one. And somehow, you're it. Don't wake up. It'll be better for everyone if you just stay here and stay quiet."

A chill ran down Aiden's back. Did Bron know he was conscious? The tent flap rustled again, and Bron was gone. Aiden opened his eyes. Nothing. It was going to be a long wait.

* * *

Robin stood by the Cliffside, staring at the strangest figure he had ever met. No one who was so emaciated and frail should be so menacing, but this man exuded a sense of dread, visible even in the faces of his followers. Perhaps it was the clothing: the outfit was suited for royalty, but had been twisted and blackened, almost as if in response to the owner's emotions. An intricate crown gleamed dully on his forehead, completing the ensemble. Perhaps, though, the dread stemmed from the man's expression. It was one of twisted joy, an expression shared by children who liked too much to break things and soldiers that liked too much to break men.

Standing before him was the Mad Dog himself, King Gangrel. He was not alone, for standing by his side was a strange, ashen-skinned woman astride a black Pegasus. At the ready was a small army, easily rivaling the size of the Shepherds that had accompanied the Exalt here. Some looked like the very bandits and ruffians that had been raiding Ylisse for the past month, but others looked much more professional, dressed in well-maintained equipment that bore the multi-eyed symbol of Plegia. Robin recognized it despite having no memory of ever seeing Plegians before: it was etched onto his own hand for reasons unknown.

Gangrel did not look at him, however. His attention was focused on the figure nearby, the lady Emmeryn. The Exalt stood, seemingly unafraid of the twisted man before her. Directly to her sides stood her siblings, ready to intervene at a moment's notice. Robin and the others stood to the side, waiting. Finally, someone spoke.

"What's this, then? The Exalt herself, in all her radiance? I fear I must shield my eyes!" There were no words to accurately describe the king's voice other than infuriating. The sound he made afterwards was even more obnoxious, and Robin could barely recognize it as laughter. Emmeryn didn't flinch. She had to have prepared for this meeting, Robin thought.

"King Gangrel, I've come for the truth of this unfortunate incident between us," she declared, playing the statesman even in the face of this madman.

"The truth, I can give you the truth." Surprisingly, the speaker was the ashen-faced woman. Gangrel let her proceed, which meant that she had to have some authority.

"Perhaps milady might share her name?" Robin wouldn't have called her a lady, at least judging by her outfit, but that was why he wasn't the diplomat.

"You may call me Aversa." Something about that name was distantly familiar, like the mark on Robin's hand, but the thought was gone before he could grasp it. What was going on here? Who was this woman? What did Gangrel want? There were far too many uncertainties for Robin's taste. The more issues, the harder it was to choose an appropriate strategy. Judging by the look on Gangrel's face, he would need one.

* * *

"You see anything?"

"Looks like a campsite. No sentries. Lazy." Shione responded. Martin shifted to get a better view. The two of them were lying flat on the bare earth looking down over a cliff's edge, hiding with the help of a few scrubby bushes. Sure enough, there seemed to be an entrenched campsite down below. Some of the tent structures were in worse condition than the others, and seemed to be in worse condition. More pristine tents were clustered on the outskirts, new arrivals by the look of things. Martin could make out the Plegian seal on some.

"Maybe not lazy. They might be all gone, or maybe they already know where their enemy is." With that, Martin pointed into the distance, where two groups of soldiers, identifiable by the glint of sunlight off of armor and weapons, were barely visible.

"You think that's them? The Ylisseans, I mean," Shione asked. Martin nodded.

"We were trailing them most of the way here. There's no doubt in my mind."

"Whatever's going on over there, it doesn't look like a friendly gathering. I don't suppose we're allowed to intervene?" Shione asked. Martin shook his head.

A few minutes passed uneventfully. The camp seemed deserted, and the only movement Martin saw was the flapping of canvas in a slow breeze.

"Damn, it's hot," Shione said in a low whisper. Martin sympathized. Plate armor, even in small amounts, did not make for the best gear in high temperatures. Even this close to Ylisse, the steppes had already given way to the Plegian desert. Luckily, there wasn't too much sand here. Instead the ground was rocky, with a few scrub plants providing meager shade.

Suddenly, Shione laid a hand on his back, pushing him into the dirt. Martin looked over questioningly, but Shione was similarly hunched over. After a few seconds, he dared a look over the edge.

"Sorry, a patrol of thugs passed us by down below. Just got into the camp. There were about five or six, I'd say. Why the sudden increase in security?" He mused to himself. Then he stopped, and motioned.

Martin peeked over the edge, and immediately saw what Shione was pointing to. A large man dressed in a barbarian's armor and carrying a giant throwing axe was walking past. Martin could make out a bright red beard and blue tunic, but the rest was obscured behind the petite figure of a young woman dressed in a noble's finery. The man seemed to be carrying her over to the massing troops.

"That's the 'shipment'?" Shione asked. "Damn, kidnappers. If Aiden's down there, he's in serious trouble. Martin, promise me that if things go south, we get to kill these guys." Shione had a look of disgust on his face. He absolutely despised slavers and kidnappers such as these. Martin shared the sentiment, but he couldn't act on it, not yet.

"We go in and try to find Aiden first. Don't engage unless you absolutely have to. This is the Ylissean's fight, not ours." Shione seemed ready to protest, but nodded grudgingly.

Martin watched, looking for any sign of their target. Unfortunately, there wasn't much. He had no idea which structures belonged to who, and they didn't have time or the manpower to go searching through every single building.

There was a sudden rush of movement below. Martin watched as multiple men started moving, appearing out of tents or from just out of sight Most were headed towards the opposing forces, which now seemed to be a blur of activity. The wind carried distant sounds of clashing arms and shouting men. An unfriendly meeting had devolved into an all-out skirmish, then. Not everyone was charging into battle, though. The large man from before was back, clutching at his face, supported by two others as they walked into the largest tent.

"Whatever just happened is big. They'll be in chaos," Martin said. "If we're going to move, we do it now. I think that big tent belongs to the leader of these thugs, judging by the fact he just walked into it. If I were him, prisoners would be kept nearby. It'll be a trek, but that's our destination. " Shione nodded, and both got up. Weapons were drawn, and the two of them set off for the campsite.

* * *

Robin blocked a sword thrust with a parry, then struck at the vandal who was responsible. The man fell away, bleeding heavily. That had all happened too fast. One moment, Maribelle had shown up, captured and talking about burned villages. The next, Gangrel had accused her of being a spy and demanded reparations for a crusade against his people fifteen years ago. This reparation was in the form of the Fire Emblem, some royal treasure of apparently great power. When refused, he'd sent men after Emmeryn. Chrom had struck back, and the King had declared war. Now Robin and the others were fighting for their life, any plan Robin had long since gone. The last Robin had seen of Maribelle involved her striking her captor in the head with her parasol as an unknown mage hit the woman, Aversa, with wind magic. He had no idea where they were now, but he had to save the Exalt first.

If they survived this, Robin was about to get a lot busier. Ylisse was going to suffer if he didn't get to work. They weren't prepared for war, but the Mad King had brought it all the same.

Aiden stirred with the sound of movement outside. There were a few muffled grunts, a sound like a heavy sack dropping, and then the tent flap opened, revealing an all too familiar figure.

In the dim light stood the weasel-faced archer from before, a knife and rope in his hand. He crouched near Aiden, and held the blade to his throat. It smelled of copper.

"Don't move, or you'll pay," was the only explanation the man offered. Aiden felt a tightening around his wrists. More bindings, he supposed, but why? The answer came a moment later, when the man severed the rope tying him to the post.

Aiden was forced onto his feet. The man grabbed him from behind and pushed him forward, the knife point against his back. What was this man doing? Bron had said that he was keeping Aiden in reserve. Perhaps this man was following through with those orders and relocating him before Gangrel arrived.

He was forced outside, the sunlight blinding after his time in the dark. After blinking a few times, he was able to make out his surroundings. They were surrounded by a few rows of tents, obscuring the outsides. The ground was rocky and barren. Surprisingly, there was a body near the tent, his throat slit. That must have been why the knife smelled coppery. It was used.

The corpse was another of the thugs, though. That meant weasel-face or the other thug was no longer in Bron's employment. Judging by the fact that there hadn't been any alarm, and that weasel-face had the knife to his back, he had to assume that his captor had gone rogue.

That didn't bode well for Aiden. With a knife to his back, he couldn't do much, though. So he waited, marching forward as his captor silently commanded. Then his moment came. A throng of soldiers came running by, responding to something. Weasel-face hid in the shadows, dragging Aiden with him. The man had dropped the knife, suddenly worrying about being seen. Aiden took notice.

He rammed his head back into his captor's and heard a crunch. The man's nose still hadn't healed from the least head-butt he'd received, and Aiden had just made it worse. The man howled in pain, rearing back. Reflexively, he struck. Aiden pivoted, distinctly aware of how much this would hurt if it didn't work. The man's knife sliced right between Aiden's hands, cutting the bindings. Yes, his plan had worked for once! He ran, not willing to give the man another strike. He didn't know where his supplies were, but he had to guess they'd be in the center of the encampment, spoils of war kept in Bron's tent. If the man knew what he held, they definitely were there.

There was surprisingly little resistance on the short journey. The camp site was empty. The archer hadn't followed Aiden, whether he had lost him through the pain or the risk involved in pursuit was too great, Aiden didn't know. His own path was clear, though.

Aiden approached the main tent, only to find a surprising sight. Two men, dead. He recognized them as some of Bron's henchmen. Judging from the wounds, they had been killed by the rogue archer, most likely dead before they could even react. He'd surprised all of them. If he'd made it here, though…

It meant a fight. If he could just find his belongings, he'd be ready. Unfortunately, that meant facing Bron. If the big man was there, he'd have to be ready for a fight. That meant being prepared to duck and dodge attacks until he could find his weapons. He couldn't just leave his gear, or more importantly the package, in Bron's hands, nor could he let the man spread what he knew. He lifted the tent flap and stepped inside.

Empty. The tent was unoccupied. A few torches, hung in sconces far below the cloth roof, cast a dim glow on a scene of chaos. Tables and chairs had been overturned. Books, maps, and other assorted items lay cast on the ground. Something had happened here, but Aiden expected that the only people who could tell him were lying dead outside or were fleeing the camp with a broken nose.

There, on the table. His robes and weapons. Bron had kept them close, perhaps to sell at a later date, or because he didn't know what he was doing with Aiden yet. Aiden walked to the table and started to rearm. Robes, bracers, belt, all there. Swords, now in their sheaths. Everything seemed to be in place. Everything, that was, except the package, the thing which he had crossed dimensions for, and the tome that had been stored with it. In other words, the only things Aiden desperately needed. Apprehension growing, Aiden cast about searching for it.

A ragged cough stopped him in his tracks. Slowly, Aiden approached the source, coming from a shadowed corner of the tent. It was a man, battered, bruised, and bleeding from multiple wounds. It was a man Aiden recognized. It looked like he wouldn't have to track Bron down, not anymore.

"So you escaped…" The voice that came from Bron's mouth was weak and ragged, the voice of a man with little life left. "Good."

"Bron. I didn't think our next meeting would be like this." Aiden spoke firmly, but not harshly. He had no need to yell at a dying man.

"Neither did I. That damned archer, Vanir, made it so," Bron said, before a fit of coughing cut him off. It sounded painful. If this man hadn't wanted to kill him earlier, Aiden would have pitied the man. "He…betrayed us, once he found out about you, your secret. Cut me open and left me to die, said I deserved it."

"He knows? How many others?" Aiden said, with more force than he intended. This was not good. Bron was bad enough, but now that man, Vanir, knew about him, and he'd dissapeared. At least he know why the archer had tried to take him. Apparently, he was perceived as valuable.

"Don't worry, everyone else that knew is dead, put down by his blade. He was…thorough," Bron said, before coughing. This bout lasted longer, and blood appeared on the man's lips. "He won't tell anyone your secret, not after the trouble he went through to hide it."

"What of the bundle I had with me?"

"Taken by the rat…I suppose you'll want it, and him, before he makes a mess…We may not have gotten along, swordsman…but that traitor needs to pay… you're the only one who can make him." The man was chuckling, smiling in the face of death, but he was obviously in pain. "I respect you, you know. I suppose you, agree with Vanir, think I deserve this. Perhaps you're right. You should know the truth, though… my men wouldn't have let your failure go unpunished, so I took you captive. Wouldn't have killed you, though… no, you reminded me of myself when I first started. A bit reckless and stupid, but with promise… I started out like you, dreaming of glory. I went down dark roads, made some bad choices, now I'm here… I don't regret my life, swordsman. I do wish it could have been different." His smile faded, and he looked directly at Aiden. "Remember the people like us, kid. We didn't all start out rotten, and a few, like you, still have some humanity in 'em… don't lose that, kid. Don't make the same mistakes I did. Perhaps, if things had been different…" His thought went unfinished as his eyes slowly closed. Any strength left in the man faded, and he collapsed. Aiden knew he was gone.

Undoubtedly, Vanir was gone as well. He'd be headed for Plegia, a haven for criminals such as himself. From there, it was anyone's guess where he would go. It was something, though.

Bron's tent was well provisioned, befitting the bandit leader of a mercenary faction. After today, though, he was the dead leader of a defunct mercenary faction, so anything not bolted down was sure to be gone by sunset, once the others realized what had happened. Aiden had no use for any of the fineries in the tent, but he could use the coin and travel supplies he found. He packed as much as he could carry.

Before leaving, though, he had one thing left to do. He grabbed one of the torches off the wall and hurled it at the side of the tent. He hadn't liked Bron in life, but after what the man had said… he wasn't going to let the corpse be picked clean by vultures or bandits. He grabbed another and started to methodically light pieces of canvas that he could reach. Soon, the smoke was overbearing, and he was forced to leave, tossing the torch behind him. He stepped back and looked. The tent was now an inferno, or more appropriately a pyre. Grabbing his newly acquired supplies, he walked off, towards Plegia.

He would find Vanir. He would take back what had been stolen from him. It had been his theft in the first place, after all.

* * *

This was the third group Martin had seen in the camp. He was pressed against a tent wall, completely silent. Shione was similarly hidden across the gap between structures. On the other side of the wall was a small group of mercenaries and bandits, four or five by the sounds of things. Martin couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could make out the sounds of smashing and breaking. It sounded like they were looting their own men.

Just like the last two groups, interestingly. Deciding to infiltrate the camp and actually doing it had been separate matters entirely. Their progress down the Cliffside, and then to the camp's outskirts, had been painfully slow. Since then, they had been ever so slowly and carefully making their way into the small encampment, ensuring that they weren't seen. There was almost no reason for the caution: everyone was gone, most likely taking part in the skirmish. From this distance, the fighting seemed over. There was very little movement anymore, and the Plegian forces been decimated, with the exception of a few men let here and those that had left at the start of battle. Those that remained on the field were Ylissean forces by their appearance, Shepherds under the service of the Exalt. They seemed ready to leave, so whatever purpose they had come here for, perhaps relating to the captured noblewoman from earlier, had been achieved.

And yet, despite the scarcity of the remaining mercenaries, Martin had managed to run into what had to be the majority. Three groups, all around four to six men each, had crossed their paths since they arrived. Each had been sacking what was left in the encampment, taking whatever was available. He'd overheard a rumor that the group's leader was dead, and so everyone that remained was trying to loot what they could and leave. The only thing that had prevented the various groups from interacting with each other in the small camp was a sort of professional courtesy: each group seemed content to stick to their own territory, not interfering with the others. Shine and Martin most likely would have no such forgiveness.

Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be converging on their target: the command tent. It was most likely to hold information about Aiden if he was here, but it was also going to be the best target for the raiders. He wasn't sure why no one had sacked it already, in fact.

Eventually the looters moved on, as they usually did. Martin took a few hesitant steps out, and then motioned when the coast was clear. Shione followed, and the two kept moving. Suddenly, Shione stopped.

"Is that smoke?" Sure enough, a billowing plume of grey and black smoke was blowing over the horizon. That hadn't been there when they were scouting out the campsite.

"It might be looters. We should check."

There were no more interruptions, and soon the two found themselves outside what had to be the company's defunct command tent. Martin had been wrong, it seemed. A few enterprising souls had attempted to loot the tent, with no success. They had been struck down, tough what was interesting to Martin were the wounds. With the exception of two corpses, the wounds were fresh and precise. They were the work of someone skilled with a sword, or perhaps with two.

"Looks like Aiden's work," was all he said.

"Yep. He was here, all right," Shione responded. "Think he did this?" He was referring to the inferno that had engulfed the central tent in the complex, the very one they had hoped to search.

"I wouldn't be surprised. But I think the fire came first, these corpses look fresh. He must still be out there." Shione nodded, and grimaced.

"Now he's gone, and we're no better off. There's no signs of anything. He could be in Plegia or on his way to Ragna Ferox by now, and we wouldn't know." Shione hung his head, and walked away.

Martin scanned for other clues, but found nothing. There could have been anything here to allow Aiden to travel, including gear and supplies. If he had found a horse, he could be well beyond their reach, and he'd be able to carry enough supplies to keep him in stock for weeks.

"Martin! Watch out!"

There was the hitch, right on time. Shione pointing to the main path in the camp, where the gang of looters from before were approaching quickly. Apparently, they had decided any spoils left over were worth the risk. Or, judging by the snarl from one of them, they didn't like the encroaching adventurers. Martin drew his blade.

In fact, it was just Martin who drew his weapon. Shione seemed content to stand there, perfectly at ease. Even as the bandits drew closer, he stood quite nonchalantly, seemingly at ease with the whole situation.

"Shione, wake up! What in Grima's name are you doing?" Shione merely grinned.

"Just following orders. I believe you said something about me not fighting these guys unless you told me to?" For a brief moment, all Martin could do was stare in disbelief. Then he nodded, defeated.

"Fine, permission granted. And to think, everyone thinks _I'm_ the childish one!"

Several things happened all at once. Shione drew his axe. Two of the bandits charged in. Martin blocked the downward swing of one's axe, while the other found his mark simply gone. Then the second was hit from behind, and he fell.

The others were momentarily taken aback by Shione's incredible reaction time. Then the fight began in earnest, two thugs surrounding each of the adventurers. Martin grinned. It wasn't a fair fight, to be sure, but the thugs didn't realize just how heavily the odds were tilted against them. He wouldn't even need his magic.

The first, the one that had tried the flanking attack, went in for a sideways strike. Judging by the angle of attack, he really meant to throw Martin's guard off, providing an opening for the other one. Martin didn't oblige, instead deflecting the strike in the same direction as the man's forward momentum, stepping back as the man tumbled into his comrade. It wouldn't have been hard to pick them off, but Martin believed in second chances. As they got off, Martin motioned into the distance.

"You've still got a chance to leave."

The swing of an axe was answer enough for that question. Martin jumped to the side, watching the axe cleave dirt. These men were untrained, and had let their emotions get the best of them. The one who swung had exposed his side. He swung out at the vulnerable man, striking him down. His friend thought he had an opening and swung. Martin continued forward down the arc of his own swing, sliding under the arc of the bandit's sword. As he came back up, he pivoted and thrust upward. The bandit, unprepared, met his friend's fate. They never had any chance.

Martin was exceptional at reading his enemy's movements and manipulating those actions so they favored him. It was a skill equally as useful in close combat as it was looking over the entire battlefield.

While Martin read his opponents and chose the proper counter move, Shione was just never there. Every attack his assailants made found only empty air, while they found themselves under attack from the opposite direction. Shione wouldn't allow himself to be pinned down or stopped in his relentless assault. If the bandits tried to defend themselves, they found the attacks coming from an entirely different angle. The two couldn't keep up, and soon fell under a hail of blows.

"Well, that was easy," Martin said, looking over to Shione.

"If only finding Aiden was so simple." Shione replied, before casting his head down. "This all seems so insane. How are we supposed to find Aiden in the middle of a war?"

The situation did seem hopeless. There were just too many places to search, and it'd get a lot harder with a war brewing. Martin was a strategist, but there wasn't any strategy for finding one man who could be anywhere on the continent. Aiden always seemed one step ahead of them. Foot travel or even horses just weren't quick enough to catch someone who was already so far ahead of them.

Those weren't the only methods of travel available, though. Martin had an idea.

"Shione, we're going to need your help for this," Martin said. Shione looked up, a questioning look on his face. "We can't hope to find Aiden, let alone catch him, on foot. You don't like foot travel, though. We're close to the border, so maybe-"

"I was thinking the same thing," Shione responded. "The border guards will make it difficult, but I can handle them. With the leftover supplies we have, I should be able to make the ride. Just make sure to tell Cainne where I am, alright? I'd hate to worry her."

"Cainne, worry about you? Ha!" Martin couldn't contain himself. The idea was ridiculous. "She'll be glad you're gone. Something about your casual disrespect just gets at her, I think. I'll tell them though, don't worry."

They walked off in the direction of their horses, which had been left some distance away to graze on the sparse grass. Martin was aware that he had just separated Shione from the rest of the group, but it wouldn't be for long. He had faith in his companion's abilities. They shook hands before parting ways. Shione headed west, while Martin headed back to the capital. Shione wasn't something to worry about, not while so many other issues were presenting themselves. For example, he needed to figure out how to explain to the others what they had ust missed.

* * *

Somehow, they'd made it all back alive. As much as Robin would have liked to credit his tactical skill, there had been too much confusion from the sudden assault to formulate a real strategy. No, they'd all made it because the enemy had underestimated. Just because Ylisse was a peaceful country didn't mean its forces weren't prepared for a fight. Gangrel himself had seen to their preparations with his constant raids.

That didn't mean Robin was enthralled with the idea of the war they were now entangled it, however. Neither were any of the Shepherds, by the sound of things.

"Forgive me, Emm. I acted rashly." Yes, Chrom had. Unfortunately, rashness was the only option available at the time. Gangrel had forced it upon them. Now the country was going to suffer for his madness, and Chrom was going to blame himself.

"It's all right, Chrom. King Gangrel is the one at fault here. You were only protecting me." Apparently Emmeryn was thinking the same thing. Robin was coming to understand just how effective a leader she was, considering her age. He hoped she was as good at convincing her brother as she was with the people. Frederick approached the gathering.

"The Mad King will be rallying his forces, if they have not mobilized already. I suggest we make haste back to Ylisstol and discuss our strategy." That was his cue, he supposed. Robin was going to get a lot busier. And then there were the Risen to consider, wherever they had come from…

"Of course, Frederick. It seems war is upon us. We must protect the Ylissean people at all costs." Emmeryn really was a saint, it seemed. A war starts and her first thoughts are of her people. The world needed more leaders like her. Unfortunately, people like Gangrel would always be around to prevent that.

Robin caught up to Chrom as they departed the meeting.

"You know it isn't your fault. If anyone here is to blame, it's me. I should have predicted this," Robin said. It was true, too. Anyone with more sense would have prepared thoroughly for an attack by the infamous Mad King.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but it's no use assigning blame anymore," Chrom responded. "I understand that, and I know you aren't at fault either. I don't envy you, though. You're going to be busy in the next few days. We all are, I suppose, but I know youll pull through." If only Robin had that much faith in himself. He was new to this, even with his natural talent, and he was still troubled by his vision. He couldn't say that, though.

"I'll do my best," he said. Chrom nodded.

"When do you think we'll be back in Ylisstol?" he asked.

"I'd estimate that starting now will get us back to the capital by daybreak. It looks like no one will be resting tonight," Robin added ruefully.

"Well, we'd better not keep them waiting," Chrom finished. "Let's go." He paused for a second, though, before turning to Robin. "We'll make it through this, my friend. Gangrel doesn't know what a mistake he's made today."

* * *

_Don't worry, guys, I'm not dead. Well, I mean, if anyone was actually worried. I'm fine!_

_However, I will admit that I am extremely late with this, as it has been far over a month. I believe I set myself an optimistic 10 days to create this chapter. As it easily matches the length of the rest of the story so far, this was foolish. Combined with two weeks of complete and utter busyness from a series of massive projects in class, and this took some time to make._

_I'll try to keep to some form of schedule, don't worry. IF the other chapters are like this, though, I'll probably update more sparingly than I did at the beginning. Is this really only chapter 4? Dang._

_As always, please review, and check my bio for a (mostly spoiler free) look into my decision process for the chapter._


End file.
